Interwoven
by TheYoungestCrazySister
Summary: AU. Hiccup and the gang go to Dragon Island to work on their stealth and survival skills. But they never would've imagined the horrors waiting for them on the supposedly uninhabited island. 'What is the world's greatest blessing? Its greatest curse? I'll tell you: it's humanity.'
1. Prologue

Prologue

It was the Flight Clubs' last day of innocence, and they didn't even realize it.

Rarely enough for Berk, the sky was the light blue of a robin's egg, not a cloud in sight. The air was moist and salty from the nearby sea, and the occasional breeze was bliss. The sun blazed from its eternal place in the sky, chasing unwelcome shadows into their coves and holes; at least until night-fall.

All in all, this was the perfect day to announce the next mission to the Flight Club.

"Okay gang, over here!" Hiccup called out from where he stood beside the blackboard. His best friend Astrid Hofferson stood on the other side of the board, looking extremely pleased with herself. The dragons seemed to notice this even before their owners did; they cooed and gurgled with curiosity, tilting their head from left to right.

Their riders took no notice as they approached. As the club's four other members - Hiccup's cousin Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut - gathered around, Hiccup continued. "Tomorrow's training mission was actually Astrid's idea, so I will let her explain it."

Right on cue, Astrid stepped forward, her pretty face bright with anticipation.

But the news didn't exactly meet with the expectations. Within seconds, everyone was groaning and complaining as though Snoggletog had been cancelled. Even the dragons didn't appear to be pleased.

"_What?!_" Astrid demanded, holding her hands up.

"Your training missions are so _hard!_" Fishlegs whined.

_'Well, they kind of are.'_ Hiccup thought to himself. But he didn't dare word his opinion. He didn't care for the idea of suddenly becoming an axe-throwing target.

"They are _not_." Astrid argued, her blue eye narrowing.

"Hand-to-claw combat?" Fishlegs asked as though he still had trouble digesting it. He held up a wounded hand, tightly wrapped in a clean bandage. Meatlug, Fishlegs' beloved pet Gronckle, stuck out her massive pink tongue and gave the wound a lick. Touched by the gesture, Fishlegs embraced his pet.

The others, however, weren't feeling so loving.

"Spine-dodging?" Snotlout asked as he held his hips.

"Hot lava swimming?" Tuffnut added, a hand raised like a pupil in school.

"We never did that." Astrid protested, her eyes half-closed in an unimpressed expression.

"Yeah, but ya_ should've_." Tuffnut retorted, a playful smirk on his tanned face. "It's way better than hand-to-claw combat."

By some miracle bestowed upon them by Odin, Astrid didn't whip out her axe and hack the others to bits like pieces of kindling. Instead, she managed to stay in complete control of her emotions. In his mind, Hiccup gave her ten brownie points for the way she bottled up her rage and continued explaining. Even he couldn't have managed to keep cool.

"Well, this mission is easy." Astrid stated, gesturing to the sketch of the map on the board. "Dragon Island." She pointed at the locations with a dainty hand, "You just have to go from this beach on the east side to this coast on the west side."

Hiccup smirked. _'There's the honey...'_

The twins and Snotlout stepped closer, murmuring their generally positive comments.

"At night." Astrid cheerfully added, making everybody groan.

Hiccup's smirk reached his ears._ '...And there's the hatchet.'_

"With not camping gear."

Another moan, louder and more obnoxious this time.

"And no dragons." Astrid concluded as she began to stroll away, probably to distance herself from the group's final holler.

"That's crazy!" Snotlout snapped, "What's the point?!"

"To work on our stealth skills." Astrid riposted, her eye narrowing mischievously. "And our Wild Dragon Defence."

Hiccup pitched in. "Astrid's right: we all know how strong we are _with_ our dragons, but we have to be able to survive and defend ourselves if we ever get separated from them."

He may as well have been speaking to the mountainside. Fishlegs looked ready to soil himself, the twins' faces were as blank as fresh parchment, and Snotlout was half-asleep already.

"Trust me." Astrid grinned, "It'll be fun."

Once again, nobody agreed. Fishlegs whimpered like a kicked puppy while Ruffnut slapped a hand over her forehead.

* * *

Because they were to leave at dusk, the teens were allowed to leave the Dragon Academy early to pack. While they weren't permitted to bring camping supplies, as Astrid had so delicately put it, the group was allowed to bring basic necessities such as a first-aid kit, food, and a lantern each.

Hiccup kept these regulations in mind as he placed one item after another in the satchel tied to Toothless's side. The Night Fury occasionally cooed, but other than that watched silently as his rider placed item after item in the leather bag.

Technically, Hiccup wasn't breaking the rules. The dragons would fly them to Dragon Island, so carrying the bag was a mere plus for now. Hiccup would retrieve it when the mission officially started.

Finally, everything was ready. Hiccup would keep his shield tied to his own back, so his hands were free to hold onto the provisions.

"There we go, all ready." Hiccup chuckled as he lay down on his hard wooden bed. Toothless curled up at the foot of the bed like a great scaly cat, his tail wagging gently.  
Modern people wouldn't last long on such a stiff bed, but Hiccup loved the lack of softness. It still smelled of oakwood if he inhaled deeply, and the thick wool blanket helped keep him warm. What more did he need?

Just like he'd done millions of times before, he counted the cracks in the ceiling. Then, his forest-green eyes shifted to the many charcoal drawings he'd pinned up on his wall. Some consisted of his inventions and works-in-progress, but the majority centered on his beloved Night Fury.

His pet. His partner in adventure. His first and best friend.

Feeling a fresh wave of affection wash over him, Hiccup reached out and scratched Toothless's head. The dragon purred happily, leaning in to the touch.

Ah, this was so perfect. So peaceful. If only it could last forever...

The front door opened, and a familiar deep voice called out, "Son?" With a gutteral noise, Toothless lifted his head, jade eyes wide.

...or two minutes, three at most.

"Yeah, I'm comin', Dad." Hiccup patted Toothless's head as he climbed off his bed and made his way downstairs. A second later, he stood before his father, who happened to be the leader of the clan.

Stoick the Vast. Tall and wide as a mulberry tree, with the strength of four men and always dressed in his Sunday best. With his horned helmet, long, glowing beard the color of fire, and eyes like carved gems, he struck fear by simply entering the room.

The polar opposite of his young son, who was skinnier than a toothpick, barely had the strength of one man, and dressed according to warmth, not looks.

Appearance-wise, the two were chalk and cheese. But even from a distance, one could see the great bond connecting them: they were joined by threads no thicker than a human hair, yet stronger than steel.

Stoick sighed as he removed his helmet and placed it on the wooden table. Wiping his brow, he gestured to the small food storage in the other room. He crashed in his chair, very nearly crushing it to pieces. "Son, could you get me an ice block, please? And a mug of mead."

"Uhh...sure." Hiccup nodded before making his way into the storage room. He came out shortly afterwards with a block of ice the size of a banana in one hand and a heavy jug of mead in the other. Respiring in thanks, Stoick grabbed the ice and pressed it on his brow, closing his eyes in contentment. With his free hand, he took the mug and brought it to his lips. He took a hearty swing before setting it down.

"Ah, what a day..."

"A-anything you wanna talk about?" Hiccup asked nervously, wondering what could've brought his father such distress.

"Ah," Stoick didn't open his eyes, "Another person's gone missing. It's Gothi this time."

"Gothi?" Hiccup's eyebrows disappeared in his auburn bangs. He sat down next to his father. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Stoick drank from the mead again, as though it could give him the strength to carry on talking. He shook his head. "That's the fourth person this month. What in the name of Thor's going on...?"

Hiccup squared his bony shoulders. In all honesty, he hadn't a clue. Over the past several years, people had been vanishing like morning dew. Every Viking clan in the Archipelago had lost someone. The least number of disappearances was five while some tribes had been unfortunate enough to lose up to twenty people. Many tribes had blamed each other and ended up going to war that had further reduced the number of inhabitants. Other more peaceful clans had left even more frequent offerings to Thor, Odin, and all the other gods the Vikings worshipped. They'd hoped that if they pleased their gods, their loved ones would return. Or at the very least, the disappearances would cease.

No such luck.

"Son, why is the lantern on?" Stoick's question tore Hiccup out of his ponders. Instantly, the scrawny boy recalled that he hadn't mentioned the mission to his father. Chuckling nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck, "Uh, well, see, the Flight Club's gonna be going on Dragon Island for a mission..."

"No."

Hiccup's eyebrows flew up. "Come again?"

"Son, we just lost Gothi. Do you really think I'm going to let you go?" Stoick asked rhetorically, his red eyebrows scrunching together.

"Dad, please." Hiccup tried not to sound overly exasperated. "We're just going on Dragon Island, then coming back in the morning. At the very latest! We've been there thousands of times!"

"Not with a band of kidnappers lurking in the waters." Stoick argued.

"They can't be worse than the Outcasts, can they?"

"The answer is still no, Hiccup." Stoick's voice began to rise. It was a sign that his anger was beginning to get the better of him, and for Hiccup at least that was never a positive thing.

"Dad, I promise! We'll leave the second we see another ship. And we'll be armed. Please." Hiccup hated begging; it made him feel like the child everybody had treated him as before he met Toothless. But if it could get the mission up on its feet, especially now that everybody was ready, Hiccup found that he had little alternative.

Stoick eyed the boy like he was trying to see through his flesh. Those blue eyes caught the last few streaks of daylight and gleamed coldly like stones. Hiccup found himself shrinking away at the sight, once again reminded how frightening his father could be.

Finally, Stoick nodded. "Very well. You can go, but only if you bring lanterns and weapons."

Hiccup nearly fainted with relief. "Yes, Dad."

Little did the Hooligan heir know that he and his father were being watched. And their stalker wasn't a human...or a dragon, for that matter.

Hidden in the shadows, peering at them with large gray eyes, was an enigma of a living thing.

It was the size of a baby Terrible Terror, but with human skin rather than scales. It carried a long blonde braid all the way up to the tip of its tail, which was swishing back and forth. Its skinny legs ended with human arms and legs, but with long curved claws.

On the back of its neck, the code 'H40-D60' had been tattooed in black ink.

The creature tilted its head this way and that as it took in the words exchanged between father and son.

So, this boy was going to go to the Master's Island. He was going to bring others, too, if H40-D60 had understood correctly.

This could turn out to be very...interesting.


	2. Chapter 1: In the Belly of the Beast

**Hello, and thank you for the kind words. Because I have extra time this weekend, something that I don't have often, I decided to upload again. I may not be able to upload so often in the future (especially on Monday), but I promise not to keep people waiting for more than two or three days.**

* * *

Chapter 1: In the Belly of the Beast  


Some psychologists theorize that fear is an emotion of a parasitic nature.

Why? Because like parasites, in particular ticks or leeches, they stick to their food sources and suck their blood. Often, they need to be pried or burned off in order to be removed. But even when they have been extracted from their victim, they have still removed a few precious drops of blood.

Psychologists believe that while fear doesn't do something as repellent as attach itself to your exposed skin and suck your blood, it does in a sense feed off of you. Once it sees that you are intimidated or disturbed by something, it will hold onto the source of your discomfort and use it against you, thus stimulating more fear.

For example, in Edgar Allen Poe's _'The Tell-Tale Heart'_ of 1843, the narrator commits a murder and hides the corpse under the floorboards. However, while he tries to convince the reader that he is perfectly sane, the narrator still harbors the fear of being caught and punished for this awful sin. Soon, this fear manifests itself in the narrator hearing the deafening sound of a heart beat. At first, he tries to ignore it; but as time goes on, the sound gradually grows louder. The noise - and the inescapable guilt that comes with it - chases away the last exquisite shreds of sanity the man has.

In the end, he is willing to do anything to make the noise stop, including fall down on his knees, confess, and tear the floorboards away to reveal his victim's rotting corpse.

If one were to see this story with the theory of 'parasitic fear', he could understand how one could look at terror that way. Once terror knows it has a hold on you, it won't let go.

Not ever.

* * *

_"There've been several disappearances lately...People are disappearing more and more...in the last month, the Berserker tribe lost eight people...the Meathead tribe lost twelve..."_

Hiccup tightened his hold on the reins, enjoying the sensation of Toothless's warm, scaly body beneath him, supporting him. Stroking his friend's side to show his appreciation, the chief-to-be allowed his forest-green eyes to roam. Behind him, his friends rode their respective dragons through the night air, talking quietly amongst themselves. They had small paper lanterns either tied to their saddles or resting on their pets' heads. The pale yellow spots reflected in the otherwise dark blue ocean below.

It was as flat and perfect as a pane of glass, and the equally peaceful sky was quickly darkening from indigo to black. A few stars twinkled in the wide blue yonder, their luminescence coming and going. It made Hiccup imagine friends waving from up above. Irrational as it was, the thought brought comfort to him.

If only it could comfort him enough to actually enjoy the brief sea voyage to the island. No, as much as he longed to admire the sea's vastness and temporary stillness, he couldn't get his father's words of warning out of his head. When he'd initially heard them several hours earlier, he'd brushed aside the shiver that'd raced down his back. The skinny Viking had clung to the idea that, given everything he and his friends had endured, they could handle a little danger.

In the sun's fiery light, it had seemed possible to feel such a wild gust of tenacity. Despite Alvin's attacks, the Red Death, and Mildew's betrayal, they were all still standing there in the sunlight. Safe and sound, free from danger.

But now that the warm sunlight had left, it had brought Hiccup's limited confidence with it.

Hiccup tightened his hold on his reigns even more, whitening his knuckles. He stiffened, prepared for anything fate could throw at him.

After all, in the mysterious crepuscule of the night, anything could happen.

* * *

Only fifty miles away, an island stood. A sharp, dense shape in the flat lifeless world. It was what a small jungle would look like, had it been chopped off the main land with Thor's axe and allowed to drift off into the mist. The shores had soft sandy beaches the color of a mother's milk instead of the cruelly edged, dark gray rocks surrounding the isle of Berk. A volcano stood majestically just on the west side of the island, dormant but nevertheless a foreboding sight. Surrounding it like faithful servants were hundreds, if not thousands, of various-specied trees.

Aside from the occasional roar and chatter of the wild dragons that lived here, the island was entirely silent, like a great smothering cloth lay over it. From time to time, one would hear the rustling of small mammals scurrying from one bush to another. A few tropical birds called out, too, before quickly falling into quietude.

All was silent...unless you had an excellent sense of hearing. Then, you would've heard the nearly unclear sound of the evening wind blowing against paper-thin cartilage.

Wings. Dragon wings.

Steadily growing louder.

On top of the volcano, a creature stood up. It resembled a Terrible Terror in many ways. Like the second-smallest dragon species, this individual had an Iguana-like body and leathery wings potruding from its hunched back. But the rest of it set it apart from the genuine dragons. For one thing, it was dressed; a pair of torn trousers five sizes too large and a mud-spattered vest.

Instead of walking on all-fours, he stood on his hind legs, where he had human-like feet. His coloring was off as well: instead of being green, red, or even purple, its skin color was extremely pale. He had maroon growing on its head and cascading down to his lower back.

His face hovered somewhere between human and dragon. But right now, as he heard the sound of dragon wings coming this way, his face took on a predatory look.

Grinning toothily, the creature spun around and leapt into the volcano. His wings expanded, keeping his fall controlled and slow. The overpowering stench of sulfur, comparable to that of rotten eggs, flooded into his wide nostrils. The creature coughed and covered his nose with his hands. Even though he'd barely left the volcano since his birth three months ago, he could never get used to this wretched stench.

Down below, what sounded like a brawl was unfolding. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Even the sound of flesh being ripped off tender muscles and bones being snapped like rotten sticks was an everyday sound here.

Slowly, he reached the base of the volcano, where a huge tent stood. From down here, where the fight was going on, the noises were much louder. Sticking his fingers in his ears, the creature entered the tent, albeit cautiously.

The place was wrecked to say the least. Equiptment and tools were strewn all over the floor. The Master's bed was overturned. Crimson blood decorated the white fabric walls. Carefully drawn sketches of the creature and his 'family' lay among the debris, torn and/or burned.

In the middle of the large room, two figures stood facing each other. One was H70-D30, one of the newer creations. She was more human-like than the others, resembling a human but with the Zipplebacks' two heads, green pimply flesh, and wings. She wore a filthy sleeveless dress that had once been white but was stained as red as wine. Where her tail had once been was nothing but a stump. Both heads had untamable mops of curly blonde hair, and they were both wincing in terrible pain.

The Terrible Terror creature could hardly believe it. The Master was an old crone, looking more like a withered skeleton with paper-machè skin etched over it than an actual man. It was hard to believe how much strength was concealed within that breakable frame.

"Please, Master," Both of the girls' heads begged, "Stop. I-I can't take it anymore."

The Master snorted at his creation's pleas. "Such a pathetic little weakling." He shook his head at her like she was the biggest disappointment he could've been saddled with. "I give you more human DNA than most of my children...more than _Her_," You could hear the capital in the last word, "And yet you still fail! But," He softened his voice, sounding bored. "You were only created one week, three days, and sixteen hours ago. I suppose I could show 5% more mercy."

Both heads looked ready to sing the Master's praises. She fell to her knees and kissed his feet, crying with joy. They murmured their thanks over and over before the Master took a step back. "Enough!" He snapped, "Go to your place!"

"Yes, Master, of course, Master..." The Zippleback girl bowed both her heads as she slinked away, disappearing from sight. The Master snorted in disgust. "One of my failures, no doubt. I don't care how quickly she regenerates. She has no measurable skills and can't even create a 15% fireball." He scoffed, "Ridiculous."

He turned to the Terrible Terror creature, looking entirely uninterested. "What is it this time, H45-D55?"

The creature - H45-D55 - cleared his throat. "Someone's headed this way."

The Master's eyebrows flew up his wrinkly forehead. "Really?"

"Yes." H45-D55 nodded in confirmation, "Eleven bodies total. Six dragons: a Zippleback, a Monstrous Nightmare, a Gronckle, a Deadly Nadder, and..." He paused for effect, "...a Night Fury."

The Master's eyes - the filmy gray of ashy snow - widened to twice their normal size. "A Night Fury? The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself? I thought they'd all died out."

"As did I." H45-D55 nodded, remembering to keep his voice humble in the presence of the one who'd given him life - and could take it away just as easily. "But apparently, there are a few left."

"I have 30% interest." The Master nodded at his 'son' (the term being used in an unbelievably sick manner), indicating that he had permission to continue speaking. "Surely, H45-D55, you wouldn't have cut your little outing short to update me that more wild dragons were coming." His eyes gleamed dangerously, the same way they did when he performed an autopsy on one of his 'children'...even if they hadn't stopped moving. "I know there's more to it than that."

The specimen nodded, "Y-yes, Master. This is the interesting part," The specimen's eyes twinkled like polished gemstones, "I mentioned eleven bodies. So far, I described five: the dragons. I could identify their species by their scent and the way they flew. But there are six humans. They are _riding_ the dragons."

The Master blinked, then chuckled. The chuckles grew in volume until they were wild shrills of laughter bouncing off the tent's walls like rubber balls. H45-D55 whimpered like a whipped puppy and slinked away, keeping his eyes on his Master. The old man didn't stop laughing until his chortles dissolved into coughs. He hunched over with a hand planted over his mouth, coughing into it with aggression.

When his fit ended, the Master pulled his hand away. The palm was sticky and red with blood.

But he wasn't going to die. Not yet, anyway.

He grinned at his horrified creation; the blood-tinged saliva was webbed out across his teeth, making the smile more horrifying than any scowl a dragon could wear.

"I'd say the gods are smiling down on me, H45-D55. I was beginning to run low on supplies, anyway. Besides," He turned to the corner of the room, softening his tone, "My darling needed to stretch her wings anyway. She can only fly 50 miles away from this island, anyway."

He walked towards the corner of the room, where a womb made of black metal stood. If one were to stand next to it, he or she would hear bubbles or water slushing around, like a tank full of fish. The Master, momentarily forgetting the ruthlessness he showed his other creations, stroked the womb like a mother would with her sleeping baby.

"Lena, my angel. Are you awake by any chance?" Keeping a wrinkled, stitched hand on the womb, he circled it, keeping a calculating eye in case of changes. "Won't you answer a decrepid old man's calls before another kind of angel takes him?" He leaned forward and hissed, "We have visitors, my dear."

Inside the womb, a creature floated in the plasma. It hugged its arms to its chest like it was holding something precious against its heart. Its huge eyes were closed, heavy with sleep...

...before slowly opening, revealing blood-red irises.


	3. Chapter 2: The Flames of Hatred

Chapter 2: The Flames of Hatred  


'Hatred' or 'hate' is a very deep emotional dislike towards people, object, places, ideas, or even entities. This emotion is frequently associated with feelings of extreme hostility and anger. Commonly held rules such as the Golden Rule opposes hatred towards other people.

In psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud stated that hatred was defined as a state that wanted to destroy the source of its misery. In many ways, this is correct. If someone wrongs us, we want to see them pay for it, either by apologizing, finding some means of redemption, or to suffer as they made us suffer. It is an age-old desire many (if not all) people harbor deep within their hearts.

If someone hurts us, we want to hurt them back.

But if there one thing people must never do is allow revenge to enter their hearts. Like a poison, it takes over and transforms the man into the monster he had been trying to fight.

* * *

"Ugh! How. _Much_. **_LONGER?!_**" Tuffnut shouted at the top of his lungs as he leaned back in his 'seat' on Belch's head.

"Yeah!" Ruffnut bellowed at an equally vociferous volume. "We've been flyin' for hours! When're we gonna get there?!"

Astrid was fuming as the urge to knock the feeble-minded twins off their Hideous Zippleback coursed through her fingers. The distance between the group and Dragon Island was shrinking by the second, but it apparently hadn't been speedy enough for the twins' liking. Ergo, they'd been repeatedly asking 'are we there yet?' for the past two hours. Astrid was half-convinced that she'd be doing the others a courtesy to let Ruffnut and Tuffnut swim for the remainder of the journey.

But in the end, she restrained herself. After all, she'd only been _half_ convinced.

Instead, she retorted, "We'll get there when we get there!"

Both twins groaned in exasperation, but their following silence was a small comfort.

Snotlout snickered from atop Hookfang, his 'tamed' Monstrous Nightmare. "Didn't take much to shut you guys up, huh?" He laughed, either unaware of the glares the twins shot him or simply not caring. He turned to Astrid, those pale blue eyes alight with infatuation. "I like 'em fiery, y'know?" He completed his flirt with a wink, causing Astrid to glower at him. She didn't even bother answering him; instead, she glanced at the rider ahead of her: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.

Or, to her and the other dragon trainers, Hiccup.

The blonde Viking eyed her friend attentively. He'd barely uttered two sentences since yesterday, when the group had assembled at the Berk Dragon Training Academy. Back then, he'd been his usual, intelligent, supportive self.

But now, he seemed so...concerned.

His scrawny shoulders were drooped, he kept his eyes ahead of him, and his body was as stiff as a rock's. Astrid was willing to bet anything that something was eating away at her friend the same way fire consumes a paper thrown into it. But the only question was: what was it?

Gently, Astrid nudged Stormfly to pick up the pace a bit. With a growl of submission, the Deadly Nadder beat its wings a bit more forcefully; in seconds, it was flying side by side with Toothless. The Night Fury lifted its head at the unanticipated company, but Hiccup barely seemed to acknowledge the girl. Toothless met Astrid's blue eyes with his jade ones; they were twin whirlpools of concern regarding the thin Viking.

So, she wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Carefully, as if handling a delicate flower, Astrid reached out and touched Hiccup's hand. Hiccup flinched, his forest-green eyes snapping back into focus. "Huh-whu-what?!" His gaze flew in all directions, accidentally landing on Astrid's face. Immediately, Hiccup's freckled face became the color of a pomegranate. "Astrid!" He exclaimed, trying to conceal his embarrassment with surprise. "I-I didn't see ya there!"

"Clearly." Astrid replied with a smirk. Then, her expression softened. "Are you okay, Hic? You've been acting kinda funny ever since we left."

Her words struck a chord. Hiccup's awkward smile vanished from his face, and he lowered his gaze. "Um..." He scratched the back of his neck, still refusing to meet Astrid's eyes. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

Astrid raised a brow. "Honest?"

"Yes!" Hiccup spun around to look at his friend, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "I'm fine, really, Astrid."

Astrid snorted, "No, you're not." Again, she softened her voice, "Come on, Hic. You can tell me."

Hiccup released all the air from his lungs, realizing how transparent his lie was. He eyed Astrid for a long moment, contemplation clear in his forest-green eyes. If he told her, he might worry her; but if he kept it to himself, the young Viking felt like he would explode.

Besides, she was his friend. She'd always been there to listen to him when he'd needed help and offered advice whenever she could (though most of her advice included weapons).

She deserved to know what was vexing him.

Hiccup took a deep breath. "Okay. Yesterday, after the lesson, my dad told me-"

An inhuman shriek sliced through the air like a frozen whip.

The six dragon riders looked up just in time to see three creatures fly towards them, fangs bared and claws outstretched.

"Holy Thor..." Astrid's face went white with fear, but Hiccup narrowed his eyes, examining the things closing in on them.

These critters resembled humans in many ways, but their blood couldn't possibly have been pure. Two of them, who must have been siblings due to their identical slim builds and dark hair, had huge, bat-like wings. Their skin was acid-green and their necks were as long and thin as stems of barley. They had claws hands and feet and were barely dressed in bloody rags.

The monster siblings zoomed in, narrowing their eyes to slits. One of them opened its mouth and unleashed a geyser of violet fluid.  
"Aah!" Astrid and Stormfly darted out of the way, but not before some of the substance splashed on Stormfly's wing. The Nadder howled in agony as a horrible transformation took effect. Hiccup watched in terror as the dragon's skin melted off its wing, then the muscle, then the bone.

Then, with a blood-chilling scream, the Nadder plummeted towards the ocean, taking a hollering Astrid with it.

"Astrid!" Hiccup screamed. Toothless narrowed his eyes and shot like a bullet towards the falling girl. Hiccup stood up on his saddle, holding his ground against the wind, and reached out towards the girl. He caught Astrid's wrists and pulled her towards him.

Meanwhile, the third monster congratulated its companion with a bird-like chirp before pointing at the others with a black-clawed finger. The siblings monsters shared a toothy grin before zooming in on the others.

Snotlout yelped before gesturing at the incoming enemies, "Hookfang, _annihilate!_"

Normally, the Monstrous Nightmare disobeyed his owner and ended up burning him instead of the intended target. But this time, upon seeing the threat, he did as he was told.  
His skin glowed with fire as he opened his jaws to their limits and spat out a fire-ball the size of a baby yak. The fiery orb narrowly missed one of the monsters, singing the delicate hairs on its arms.  
The monster let out another missle of acid, but Hookfang countered it with a second, larger fire-ball. The two attacks collided, creating a firework-like explosion.

Meanwhile, Hiccup held onto Astrid to keep her from falling. But the blonde Viking had other plans; she pushed him aside (nearly knocking him off Toothless) and looked down, scanning the ocean below in complete desperation.

"_STORMFLY!_" She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice cracking. She looked around, hoping that her beloved pet was merely playing an absurd prank. Astrid would've cried with joy if that had been the case.

But all that was left of the Deadly Nadder were a few expanding ripples in the water.

Astrid's eyes became glassy with tears, and her shoulders slackened. Tears streamed down her cheeks like broken strings of pearls, but she refused to wail out loud. Shrugging off Hiccup's hand on her shoulder, Astrid lowered her head and concentrated on breathing.

She reached for the axe tied to her belt and undid the string. The axe fit into her otherwise dainty palm perfectly, as if it had been carved just for her. Astrid met Hiccup's eyes, her own wet with sorrowful tears but dark with thirst for revenge. "C'mon." She said in a husky voice, "Let's go kill ourselves a few monsters."

Hiccup opened his mouth before clamping it shut. Nodding grimly, he gave Toothless's reins a gentle tug. "C'mon, bud." With a mournful whimper, the Night Fury did as his master asked and flew towards the blossoming battle.

The sibling monsters weren't going to go down easily, that much was clear. One of Hookfang's fire-balls had finally hit one of them and burned its skin off, leaving the sinewy muscle vulnerable. But as the shocked dragon trainers watched, the skin simply grew back. In minutes the creature was perfectly fine, as though nothing had happened.

The creature grinned at them before making a wild grab for Fishlegs. The chubby boy let out a (rather unmanly) squeak as Meatlug flew out of the creature's path. Meatlug swung her heavy tail at the monster, making it bolt backwards.

"Ha, ha!" Ruffnut cawed, "Barf, gas!"

Her dragon opened its mouth; green gas poured out like a mossy waterfall. Tuffnut made a snapping gesture with his hand, and Belch summoned his sparks. The gas ignited, lighting the monster on fire.

But that didn't stop it. If anything, the impressive attack merely angered the monster...and its friends.

The other monster howled and dived for the twins, claws reaching for their throats. "Guys, look out!" Hiccup screamed, "Toothless, plasma blast!"

A bright violet rondure flew out of Toothless's mouth and nailed the monster. It faltered in flight but managed to grab the twins by the throats. Ruffnut and Tuffnut gasped and scratched the claws holding onto their windpipes. The monster mounted sixty feet higher, bringing the twins along with it.

The previously-burned monster slammed into Meatlug, sending both dragon and rider towards the ocean. Before anyone had time to blink, the monster did the same with Hookfang. The monster cackled wildly as it watched the humans tumble towards the sea, but its smile quickly turned into a sneer when the dragons caught their owners and flew back up.

"Hookfang, annihilate!" Snotlout shouted.

"Toothless, plasma blast!" Hiccup yelled again.

A fire-ball and a ball of violet energy hit the monster at the same time, making it shriek in anguish.

"Hit it again!" Hiccup yelled at Snotlout, "Don't give it time to recover!"

Snotlout looked worried for a second...before grinning with mischief. "I'm on it!" He bellowed, "You guys get Ruff and Tuff!"

Hiccup paused before nodding and tugging at the reins. Toothless whooshed upward, his great black wings slicing through the air like a knife through soft cheese.

As the trio reached the monster, their eyes widened.

The monster remained in the sky, holding each twin by his/her throat. Its expression was that of ecstacy, its grin reaching its tiny ears and drool dripping down its chin. The leader levitated towards them.

The twins felt their blood go cold. Unlike the other two monsters, this one was covered from head to toe in a catsuit made entirely out of metal. It looked mostly like a muscular human female, but with legs that bent backwards and a long tail that reached its ankles. A metal collar hung around its neck, counting down the seconds. Its wings, smaller than the others', flapped rythmatically as it closed the distance between it and the aghast twins.

Its face was entirely covered with some sort of metallic helmet. But the twins could still feel a pair of hungry eyes staring at them, sizing them up.

_'I can hear fresh blood rushing through their veins.'_ A cold female voice hissed in their minds, making them go frigid with terror.

The creature lifted its helmet up just enough to reveal its chin and mouth. The mouth smiled almost kindly...then opened wide, revealing two sets of needle-like twins.

"No!" The other monster cried in a deeply gutteral voice, "I want first bite!"

The leader growled at the monster like a lion, making it snarl in response.

"Oh, no you don't." Astrid stood up, axe at the ready. Before Hiccup could open his mouth to protest, the girl yowled and leapt in the air, the axe lifted over her head.

"Yaah!" She swung at the monster's head, but it sensed danger and bolted sharply.

But the swing wasn't in vain. The large blade sliced cleanly through its arms, releasing the twins.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut screamed as they crashed down...only to land on something rocky and hard in nature.

"Greetings!" Fishlegs grinned from his seat in front of them. "Are you two okay?"

The twins groaned as they rubbed their heads. Ruffnut, realizing the monster's claw was still hooked around her throat, screamed and threw it away as far as she could.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." Fishlegs smiled.

An inhuman scream, accompanied by the crackling roar of fire, made all of them turn around.

Hookfang, now a pillar of blinding white flames, circled the other monster. Slowly at first, like a predator stalking its prey. But it quickly picked up the pace, not giving the creature time to escape or fight back. Soon, the flames connected like chains as they spun faster and faster. The night sky was alight with its blinding beauty as the tornado of flames grew, trapping the beast inside. Inside it, the monster cried and hollered as the fire licked away at it, searing through its flesh and bones.

"NOO!" The monster's sibling tried to fly to its rescue, but the leader latched itself to it, keeping it at bay.

The monster's small figure continued to fight, wriggling in pain like a worm on a hook. Then, finally, it dissolved into ashes.

The fiery tornado exploded, lighting up the world before dying out.

The other monster was sobbing as its leader flew back towards the island, forcing the crying monster to follow.

Silence governed the area for a long time, none of the riders knowing what to do or say. Ruffnut and Tuffnut quietly mounted their Zippleback once more, though for once they didn't have a snarky comment.

Finally, Astrid hissed, "And that was for Stormfly, bitch."


	4. Chapter 3: Welcome to Dragon Island

**Thank you all for the kind reviews! Much appreciated!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Welcome to Dragon Island  


_'What is the world's greatest blessing? Its greatest curse?_

_I'll tell you: it's humanity.'_

Deep inside the dormant volcano, the tent stood silently. It was dark save for the single torch placed near the operating table. It cast a warm, homey glow to the tent, but the two people within it couldn't appreciate the atmosphere.

One was being cut open, while the other was performing the grisly operation.

_'That's why I love humans.'_

The Master dug the rusty scalpel deeper in the creature's belly. The monster - H20-D80 - cried out as fresh tears sprung in its bloodshot eyes; but with the metal restraints chaining its wrists and ankles to the table, there was little else it could do.

_'I love their hair. Their eyeballs. Their bones.'_

Turning a deaf ear to the creature's pathetic whimpers, the Master cut the kidney loose, unleashing a fresh stream of bright crimson blood. H20-D80's eyes widened as it released an ear-splitting holler. It tugged against its restraints, but to no avail. It gave its creator the most pitious look it could muster, but the Master continued his work with the perfect poker face.

_'Their flesh. Their nails. Their organs.'_

With a sickening 'plop', the kidney was tossed on the silver plate. Then, the Master took out a long, large-eyed needle and black wire. With expertise that would break a seamstress's heart, the Master dug the needle into H20-D80's open wound. Ignoring the sharp outcry, the Master began to rythmatically sew the cut closed. H20-D80's cries and screams had been reduced to whimpers. Tears still trickled steadily down its scaly cheeks.  
It was a relief when the work was finally done.

"Thank you, H20-D80." The Master stated in an almost fatherly voice. He held up the kidney - far too large to be a human's - in his gloved hands. "This will definitely come in handy." He quickly examined the list laid out in front of him before crossing out the creature's 'name'.

"Well, it looks like you were the last one. That marks..." He turned around and counted the number of sealed glass jars sitting on the shelves. "Twelve in total." He unlocked the creature's restraints, earning a sigh of relief. "Not bad for a day's work."

H20-D80 groaned and swayed this way and that as it got to its feet. It pressed a long-nailed hand to its wound, waiting. Underneath the skin, a loud bubbling noise could be heard. A moment later, the creature relaxed. Its kidney had grown back, good as new. Then, taking a gander at the jars, it raced out of the tent as quickly as its two chicken-like legs could carry it. Better leave now before its creator tried to remove something else.

The Master let the creation leave with its tail between its legs (quite literally). Let it leave! It was one of his older creations anyway - he'd made it out of sheer boredom a couple of years ago with a dead baby dragon and a large dose of human blood from one of the island's previous intruders. H20-D80's regeneration was already beginning to slow down, and it wasn't as fast or intelligent as the Master's newer inventions. If H20-D80 continued to deteriorate at this rate, the Master would have to take it down with an axe.

It would've died soon anyway. Either that or change back into a dragon.

A shriek comparable to that of a banshee filled the air. A shiver of excitement flooded through him. This could only mean one thing: the initiation attack was over. The Master ran out of the tent and looked up just in time to see Lena and H42-D58 gliding towards him. But where was the other H42-D58? Judging by the monster's incessant sobbing, its sibling must have been killed.

The Master felt both anger and respect towards these incoming strangers. On one hand, he was impressed that humans had managed to take down one of his creations. They were the perfect blend. At least, the successful ones were. The fact that they'd killed one proved that they were worthy candidates.

But mostly, the Master felt wrath blind him. Nobody could kill his creations. No one!

...Except him, and that was in the name of science.

These newcomers had to be taught a lesson, no doubt.

He smirked as his two 'children' landed in front of him. Lena, who'd had her clawed hands attached to H42-D58's shoulders, extracted them and retreated to the tent. Now that it was standing in front of him, the Master saw the damaged inflicted on H42-D58. Its arms from the elbow down had been severed cleanly, as if with a meat cleaver. Not only that, but its body was coated in cuts; they zig-zagged across its body like a tiger's stripes.

Only one thing could inflict wounds like this. At least, according to the Master's vast knowledge.

A dragon's claw.

His eyes - as pale as a bone picked clean - met the dragon-like ones of his 'child'. He smiled thinly, thinking back on the jars filled with his 'children's' donated organs, flesh, and bone. Then, he pondered over the newcomers that rode dragons and had managed to kill one of his inventions.

Back inside the tent, Lena removed the helmet that she always wore. The numbers on her collar were still going down, so she did the only thing she could: she held up one of her personal syringes and held out her arm. Then, with an expert's hand, she injected herself with the clear fluid. Lena bit her lip, accidentally drawing blood, as she felt her medicine swirl in her veins and keep her curse at bay.

There. The numbers on her collar reset. She wouldn't need another injection for another three hours at least.

Lena smiled to herself. That was more than enough time to see who these newcomers were.

* * *

Night had taken firm hold of the world by the time the six dragon trainers reached the island. The cool air smelled of tropical plants and seawater, and the occasional breeze felt pleasant in everyone's sweat-matted hair.

It would've been a great evening to put their mission into action...

..If it hadn't been for Stormfly's death.

From the moment she severed the monster's arms, Astrid had curled up within herself like a flower at dusk. She'd either stared at her feet or at the sky, and hadn't acknowledged Hiccup's timid hand on her shoulder. When her concerned friends had asked her how she was or offered her comforting words, she had acted as though she hadn't heard them. Nothing they could do or say could make her feel better, unless they suddenly developed powers of necromancy.

By the time they reached the island, Astrid may as well have been carved out of marble for all the emotion she displayed.

As Toothless landed smoothly on the white sandy beach, Hiccup spoke up for the first time since their unexpected attack. "Look," He began hesitantly, "About what happened..."

"I don't want to talk about it." Astrid's voice was a dagger of ice.

But Hiccup wasn't going to relent so easily. He turned around to face her, his voice and expression gentle. "It wasn't your fault..."

"I said," Astrid's axe was aimed at Hiccup's skinny throat a second later, "_I don't want to talk about it._"

Hiccup gulped with an audible click as that fierce blue eye drilled a hole in his forest-green ones. For the first time in what felt like decades, Hiccup looked at Astrid and recalled the antisocial, ill-tempered girl she'd once been.

And he didn't like it one bit.

The scrawny Viking nodded, raising both hands in surrender. What else could he do?

Astrid didn't smile like Hiccup had hoped she would, but she _did_ lower her axe and return it to its string around her waist. Better than nothing, right?

Hiccup cleared his throat and hopped off Toothless, placing a hand on the ebony reptile's side. "Let's get crackin', huh?" He attempted a smile and offered Astrid his hand. Astrid paused before rolling her eyes, accepting her friend's hand, and sliding off Toothless's back.

What both teens didn't realize was, they continued to hold hands until they reached their comrades.

"Alright, gang." Hiccup began as he lit his lantern, "Because of the, er, delay..."

Astrid harrumphed and folded her arms across her chest.

"...We're a bit behind schedule." Hiccup continued, giving Astrid a sympathetic gander in the process. "One of us is gonna have to skip the drill and take the dragons to the cave on the other side of the island. That way, they won't try to help us."

In that moment, a high-pitched shriek whipped the air like a birch. A wild Deadly Nadder landed in front of the group and spat out a geyser of yellow-orange fire. Toothless quickly countered with his plasma blasts. The Nadder retreated, its eyes widening in shock at the other dragon's behavior. Toothless charged it, making it roar a second time - this time in fury - and taking the sky.

"Just like that." Hiccup concluded, "So, who's gonna watch the dragons?"

Fishlegs smirked like a cat that caught the largest hen. "I think the obvious choice is-"

"Me!" Tuffnut pushed past Fishlegs, "I volunteer!"

Fishlegs, momentarily silenced by awe, recovered enough to protest, "But I have way more dragon knowledge!"

"Yeah, from a _book_." Tuffnut countered, making it painfully apparent that he thought little of his ally's extensive education. "But I," He placed a hand on his chest, "I feel them. Right here." After a second, he frowned and lowered his hand, "Or was it here?" His midsection growled, and he nodded in satisfaction, "Yeah; in my stomach. Besides," He turned back to Fishlegs, "I didn't say, 'Me first!'"

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Hiccup murmured to himself, "But, uh, Tuffnut's right. Fishlegs, no one can argue with your dragon knowledge." He explained to a crestfallen Fishlegs and an extremely smug Tuffnut. "But if Alvin attacks with wild dragons, we need to be able to face them. Any time of the day or night. On our own. _Without_ help."

"I hate it when you make sense." Fishlegs muttered as he stared at his boots.

Tuffnut elbowed him, a devilish snicker escaping his lips.

* * *

The dragon riders (with the exception of Tuffnut) reluctantly bid farewell to their dragons before walking away. Astrid, seeing her friends speak to and embrace their dragons, teared up before rushing away. Once at a safe distant from everyone, she wiped her eyes and inhaled shakily. That awful evening replayed in her mind, making her want to cry all over again.

_'Stormfly,'_ She thought to herself, _'I'm sorry. I couldn't save you.'_

Astrid probably would've prolonged her speech, throwing in the happy memories she shared with the dragon and how she would make those monsters pay. But the faint crunching noise of boot soles meeting sand forced her to pull herself together.

Hiccup was about to ask Astrid how she was holding up, but he felt something lightly press against his back.  
Something large, firm, and scaly.

"No, no, no, no, no, Toothless." Hiccup looked over his shoulder before turning around to fully face his pet, "You have to go with Tuffnut." He sighed, "I can't believe I'm saying this either but...he's the boss."

"That's right!" Tuffnut grinned wickedly at the Night Fury, "You heard that! Boss man! Head honcho! The big..." He hesitated, "Boss-honcho...guy." He added, "The honch-boss!" Tuffnut held up his lantern, "Hey, anybody know where this cave is?"

Snotlout and a couple of others stopped and stared at Tuffnut, bewilderment etched on their faces.

"Just messing with you!" Tuffnut grinned before adding in a faux mysterious voice, "Or _am_ I?" He let out a bellow of laughter before spinning on his heel, "Even _I_ don't know."

He walked away, lantern in hand, with the small herd of dragons hot on his heels.

"Remember: this is about stealth, not speed. It doesn't matter how fast ya get there. What's important is how you handle a wild dragon should you come across one." Hiccup instructed, "Understand? All right, good luck everybody. I'll see you back at the cave." He held up his shield (which was nearly as large as he was) and began the journey towards the cave. But he didn't make three steps before hearing grumbling behind him.

"Huh?" He turned around to see Fishlegs whispering to himself. When the chubby blonde noticed his friend's eyes on him, he spoke, "What? I'm formulating a plan!"

Hiccup smiled, "Fishlegs, you can do this." He gave his friend the most encouraging look he could as he began to walk towards the dense jungle.

Fishlegs groaned, kicking a small stone for good measure. "Oh, man! I should've stayed in my nice warm bed this morning, Meatlug peacefully licking my toes, but _no-o-o!_"

"Move out, Fishlegs!" Hiccup called over his shoulder, hoping that would prompt his friend to pick up the pace.

"Don't rush me!" Fishlegs snapped, sounding oddly like a girl getting ready for prom, "I'm having a moment!"

As the words left his lips, a cold wind blew out the candle in his lantern. Darkness fell over the overweight Viking like a blanket, and he felt the hairs on his dense air stand erect.

Tenebrosity is a curious thing, Fishlegs realized. It turned things that seem familiar and amicable during the day into nightmarish figures. The jagged rocks at the shore were blackened shark teeth. The towering trees in front of him were silent soldiers ready to attack. Fishlegs could only imagine the living creatures in that forest, all wild and beyond the bounds of man. All it would take is one wrong move, and he would be dead.

Something rustled in the leaves above his head, getting a startled whimper out of him. He took a few steps back, clinging the lantern to his chest like a security blanket. "W-who's there?" He called.

Nothing answered. Even the rustling had stopped, like it had never begun in the first place.

But Fishlegs could feel it. Someone - or something - was in the darkness, watching him from a relatively safe distance.

Then, for a few brief seconds, he saw it.

In the shadows only two meters away from him, a pair of eyes opened. Fishlegs fell back on his rear, crawling backwards to stretch the distance between them. His eyes bulged like a fish's out of water.

The eyes staring at him were a terrifying sight. They were huge, nearing the size of kiwi, with blood-red irises glowing in the dimness like twin hunter moons. The eyes' owner didn't move or look away. It remained where it was, examining Fishlegs like he was a fascinating new toy.

Then, the eyes vanished, leaving the very frightened Viking alone.


	5. Chapter 4: Encounters

Chapter 4: Encounters  


While Fishlegs lay in the warm grainy sand, trying to understand what he'd just seen, Tuffnut was taking his role as the 'boss' all too seriously.

Thanks to the campfire, the cave on the west side of Dragon Island was cast in a warm butterly light. The dragons, tired from their long flight (and unexpected dogfight) lay down in front of the crackling flames. Their eyelids were already beginning to grow heavy, and they had never been so willing to sleep.

Tuffnut, however, was not so keen.

"Alright, who's up for an all-nighter?" He asked, his hands clasped together. He grinned devilishly at the winged reptiles, "You guys're gonna love my ghost stories." Barf and Belch, Hookfang, and Meatlug eyeballed the longhaired boy with curiosity, but Toothless had already tuned out the boy's words. Instead, the Night Fury's small, nearly invisible ears identified noises coming from beyond the grotto. Only a few meters outside the cave's entrace, tree branches creaked and leaves swished together like whispering voices.

The Night Fury felt it the same way humans might feel a draft. Something was happening out there. Something not very nice.

Discarding his duty to avoid interfering, Toothless marched towards the cave's exit. Tuffnut noticed and approached the black dragon, "Ah, ah, ah, ah! Not so fast, Mr. Night Fury." He stood in between Toothless and the cave entrance, "Remember the mission: no dragon help. And that means _you_." He added, pointing at the ebony dragon. Then, he crossed his arms across his chest, "Besides, I'm in charge."

Toothless exhaled through his nostrils. Deciding to put aside his protectiveness for now, he turned back to join his fellow dragons...'accidentally' slamming his tail across Tuffnut's back.

The four (if one counts the Zippleback as two separate beings) other dragons watched with wide, amazed eyes at their 'head honcho' went from standing at the cave entrance to hanging by the scruff of his shirt on a rock edge thirty feet above the ground.

"I _knew_ that was coming!" Tuffnut tried lamely, seeing his argument wither and die like a plant on fire. After a second's hesitation, he swallowed his pride and asked, "Little help here? Help out your boss-honcho?"

Toothless gave Tuffnut a short-term, unimpressed look before firing a plasma-blast. The scruff of Tuffnut's shirt dissolved like sugar in water, freeing him. The teenaged Viking yelped as he fell on the ground with a solid _thunk_.

* * *

Astrid walked through the opaque forest, studying her worn boots and the occasional wild flowers and high grasses. She didn't even know why she'd bothered to come here anymore. She just wanted to go home, crawl under the covers, and try to act like today had never happened.

Every time she closed her eyes, all Astrid could see was that hideous, human-dragon beast eject acid from its wide mouth. She could envision the mescalin coating Stormfly's wing, melting away the skin, muscle, and bone like ice cubes. Her ears were still ringing with her dragon's final, desperate cry.

Tears sprung in Astrid's eyes; she squeezed them shut to stop the tears, but it was of little use.

Stormfly was dead. She was at the bottom of the ocean and it was entirely Astrid's fault.

The mission had been Astrid's idea, after all.

_'Aw, girl...'_ Astrid brought a cool hand to her burning forehead, _'I'm sorry. If there was some way, I...'_

A tortured whimper cut off her train of thought. Astrid went rigid as a corpse, every sense on high alert. She listened for the noise again, her blue eyes shifting from left to right.

The mewl came again, slightly louder this time.  
Come to think of it, Astrid had never heard anything like it. It sounded a bit like a newly-hatched Monstrous Nightmare, but it wasn't quite right. There was a slight hint of human-like vocals underneath the whines.

Just like that, Astrid understood. It wasn't a wild dragon at all. It was another of those _monsters_, just like the thing that had killed her beloved pet.

So why should she help it? Let it bleed to death for all Astrid cared.

Layering her heart with steel, Astrid spun on her heel and began to tread the way she'd come from. She made ten feet when the beast howled again; but this time, she managed to turn a deaf ear to it.

Another ten feet, and the creature began to sob in agony. Gritting her teeth, Astrid forced herself to continue walking.  
Another fifteen feet and the critter was openly crying. Astrid stopped walking, listening to the unseen monster's lament. It wasn't the type of sob a child made when he/she fell and scraped his/her knee. It was a much more desperate, heartbroken sort; the kind that no longer hoped to be saved but still feared to die.

Tough as she was, even Astrid wasn't that cold-blooded.

The Viking girl groaned. "God, Hiccup's softening me up." Tightening her hands into fists, she turned around and stomped towards the noise.

She found the creature in little time; with all its crying, it was amazing Astrid was the only one who had. Cautiously, the blonde girl pressed herself against a tree as her eyes adjusted to the dimness.

Soon, she spotted the source of the noise. True to her initial suspicions, it strongly resembled a young Monstrous Nightmare. However, there were several crucial differences: it was much smaller, maybe the size of Astrid herself. It lacked wings and its skin was pale instead of deep purple, scarlet, or emerald-green. With no arms, it had a peculiar, freakish appearance. It had the Monstrous Nightmare's snakelike neck and extendable claws.

But right now, one of them was stuck in what appeared to be a home-made bear trap. The sight disgusted Astrid even from this distance. The creature's leg was slippery with crimson blood, and the Viking girl could see the bone underneath the gorey mess. The creature tried in vain to free itself with its other claw, but the trap was too strong.

It looked so pathetic and helpless, Astrid couldn't leave it there.

Filling her lungs, she stepped out from behind the tree...but a high-pitched shriek rooted her to the spot. Astrid scrambled back to her hiding spot as another critter landed on its feet, right in front of the trapped Monstrous Nightmare. Astrid glanced at the newcomer and felt her blood bubble in her veins.

She recognized it in half a second. The metal catsuit. The helmet.

It was one of them: one of the monsters who'd sent her Stormfly tumbling in the cold dark ocean.

Astrid growled lowly and stepped out of her hiding place, axe at the ready.

Unaware of the approaching intruder, Lena crouched down before her fellow creation. The action was easy, considering her knees bent backwards. She tilted her head at her brethren's condition, wincing at all the blood. She'd seen her own blood countless times; by now, the sight failed to affect her. But was something else to see it on someone else.

_'Who did this?'_ She asked her kin in their own language. It sounded deep and hoarse, crossing between a human voice and a dragon's snarl.

_'I don't know.'_ The Monstrous Nightmare shook its head helplessly. _'I was just looking for food, when I stepped into it.'_

Lena's mouth became a thin line. _'Somebody put it here. One of the intruders?'_

_'I don't care who!'_ The Monstrous Nightmare cried, _'Just help me get loose! **Please!**'_

Lena nodded, _'Okay.'_ Cracking her knuckles, she placed her four-fingered hands on either side of the trap and yanked as hard as she could. She grunted and felt patches of sweat form on her body. But finally, the gap between the trap's jaws was wide enough to give the creature escape.

Tiredly, the Monstrous Nightmare pulled its foot out and placed it on the cool grass, panting slightly. As the two creatures watched, the broken skin knitted itself back together, forming out of nothing. In minutes, the cut was completely gone.

Lena attempted a smile. _'See? All better.'_

The Monstrous Nightmare tried to return the gesture...and its eyes shifted to behind Lena. _'WATCH OUT!'_ It cried.

Lena spun around just in time to see an axe swing down.

* * *

A pair of wild Gronckles collided, playfully head-bumping each other. A moment later, a few large gray stones were tossed in their path. The dragons' eyes lit up at the sight of the unexpected snack. Forgetting all about their game, the Gronckles began to munch on the stones as though they were hunks of Turkish Delight.

A boy with a metallic foot stepped out of the shadows, chuckling at the sight. Shaking his head at the untamed dragons, Hiccup stated, "You guys are _so_ predictable." When he looked ahead, his smile disappeared. Not too far from where he stood, smoke was rising from the evergreens. As Hiccup edged closer, he saw where it was coming from; and he was by no means pleased.

"Are you...? Campfire? Really? How is _this_ stealthy?" Hiccup shook his head at the sight, already imagining who was behind it.

This could only be the work of Snotlout. His dim-witted cousin was famous for following his own hunches and ignoring what anyone else had to say. This had especially been true for Hiccup before the Red Death incident.

But this was simply too much. No, Hiccup wasn't letting his cousin off the hook this time.

* * *

"Scraaaatch...scraaaatch!" Tuffnut told, making clawing motions with his hands. "'Who stole my golden hook?' Scraaatch...scraatch! He turned around and said," He pointed at a dumbstruck Meatlug, "'YOU DID'!"

Whatever the longhaired boy had anticipated, stunned silence hadn't been on the list. Tuffnut stood in the center of the grotto, where the befuddled dragons were staring at him like he'd sprouted a second head.

"Ooh, tough cave." He remarked, glancing from one dragon to another.

Toothless's fronds perked up. Opening those huge jade eyes, the Night Fury crept towards the exit. Quiet as a mime, he nearly exited the cave...if it hadn't been for Tuffnut once again standing in his way. This time, he had his arms crossed for good measure.

"Going somewhere?" Tuffnut asked rhetorically. Toothless grumbled before retreating, crestfallen. He hadn't expected someone like Tuffnut Thorston to be so observing. Tuffnut watched the black dragon give up. "Look, I get it: you're worried about your other half. I feel your pain."

Toothless brightened, if only a bit. If Tuffnut understood how he felt, then maybe...?

"Well, not really." Tuffnut added after a moment's thought. He lowered his hands, along with Toothless's hopes. "I kinda like it when Ruffnut's in imminent danger. One time she was on fire and I just watched for a while." He grinned at the memory, his hands on his narrow waist.

Toothless scowled as Tuffnut said, "Anyway, you can beat me with your tail; you can barbecue me with a plasma blast." He began to rub the back of his neck, "You can lightly massage my shoulders and neck. You really could: I need it." He dropped his hands, "But I will _not_ jerk my responsibility to the-"

Toothless was snoring already, curled up within himself like a cat. Tuffnut raised his eyebrows at Hiccup's pet, then at his own, then at the others. Indeed, they had all followed Toothless's example and were catching z's.

"Sleeping?" Tuffnut asked, as if he still couldn't believe it. "You're all sleeping?" He shrugged, "Not a bad idea." And just like that, his suddenly-heavy eyelids drooped and a snore escaped his lips.

* * *

By now, Hiccup had reached the campsite. His rationality insisted that it could only be Snotlout's doing (and Fishlegs's, if the intellect had been exhausted and cold enough). But the more he observed his surroundings, the less he believed that was the case.

A makeshift tent was in place, and Hiccup knew for a fact that Snotlout couldn't raise a tent if his life depended on it. If anything, he would get somebody else to do it for him. And by the looks of it, that tent had been up for longer than a couple of hours.

Not only that, but the camp was littered with weapons of every sort. Arrows, daggers, swords, and axes surrounded the site like a jagged metal barrier; the axes were left in a rusting pile while the swords were impaled in the dry earth. How on earth could Snotlout have smuggled all these weapons on the island without being noticed? And more importantly, why would he need them? The group was here to learn to evade wild dragons, not butcher them and take their hides home as trophies.

Deciding to brush off his uncertainties for now, Hiccup raised his voice to be heard throughout the entire camp. "Okay, come on out. Show yourself, Snotlout, and I'll go easy on you."

A heavy body rammed into him, sending them both toppling on the ground. Ignoring the hot spasms of pain rushing through his thin body, Hiccup forced his eyes open and came face to face with the last person he'd wanted to see.

A strong, soot-covered face. A beak-like nose. Three blue streaks of war paint over one of two forest-green eyes.

An insane scowl.

"_Dagur?!_"


	6. Chapter 5: Past Ties

Chapter 5: Past Ties  


There is a saying in colloquial Arabic that roughly translates to _'Nobody can feel the fire more than he who is standing inside it'._ Like multiple sayings, it can be interpreted in dozens of different ways. Of course, one could always walk down the literary road and believe that standing in a fire will definitely give you a front-row seat to the heat.

He or she wouldn't be wrong in thinking that, either. If you literally stand into a fire, nobody will know how hot it is as well as you. You will also likely need a doctor.

But this quote can refer to more than performing a stunt that will grant you both understanding and physical injury: it is most often used to say that everyone's view on reality is different.

True, not everything is open to interpretation. For instance, if one were to say that a book on his or her table was not there, that statement would not make the book disappear. Some things simply cannot be shaken, no matter what eyes view the world.

But many things are, indeed, different for everyone.

A novel that one person adores can be an abysmal waste of trees to another. A dish that one person finds repellent can taste like ambrosia to another.

Of course, one's views can always be distorted by deception. With the correct amount of lies and complimentary acting, you could convince someone to believe virtually anything. This is especially true if you decieve them into believing something easy for them to absorb.

Hiccup Haddock Horrendous III learned that several months ago, when he and his friends had put on a false dragon attack to fool Dagur the Deranged. With a few fire-blasts, a handful of roars, and some acting from the Hairy Hooligans, they had had the bloodthirsty killer running back to his ship.

The lie had been a necessary evil. But now, it had come back to haunt him.

* * *

Hiccup lay on the dirt, wincing at the unexpected tackle. He already couldn't handle attacks in general. But when someone with a stronger, more robust build than his (which was pretty much everyone) attacked him, he felt like he'd been emptied like a tube of toothpaste.  
As the brief wave of pain died down, Hiccup looked up to meet eyes the same forest-green as his. A strong face, smeared with grime. A nose as hooked as a bird's beak.

He knew that face. He would've been perfectly content to be free of it for the rest of his days. But like he'd once stated before, the gods hated him.

"Dagur?!"

It was like Hiccup had said the magic words. The scowl immediately melted into an expression of utter shock. Recognition flashed through those green orbs like rays of sunlight. It wasn't much better in Hiccup's opinion, but at least Dagur didn't look ready to rip him to shreds.

Wordlessly, Dagur grabbed Hiccup by the scrawny shoulders and picked him up. Hiccup's feet dangled several inches from the ground as he recieved an even greater surprise.

"Hiccup, old friend!" Dagur exclaimed, hugging Hiccup like a favorite teddy bear. "You're alive!" He pulled away and chuckled, still holding the smaller Viking by the shoulders. The Berserker chief was beyond ecstatic to see the boy he'd previously used as a knife-throwing target. If anything, it creeped Hiccup out more than Dagur's previous attitude towards him.

But he finally managed to find his voice.

"Uh, last time I checked." Hiccup snickered weakly. As Dagur (finally) set him down, the Hooligan heir said, "So, uh, haven't seen _you_ since-"

"-Since you saved me from that dragon attack back on Berk." Dagur finished for his former target, his eyes as wild and bright as a forest fire. "You fought off...a _Night Fury_." He continued to stare at Hiccup with nothing short of admiration, maybe even adoration. Who could blame him? The runt of the litter had fought off the rarest and most intelligent dragon of them all.

Or so he thought.

"Oh right, yes, the...dragon attack." Hiccup replied with forced enthusiasm, placing a hand on the back of his neck. He felt a hundred times more nervous than he seemed. How was he going to keep up the act? How much longer could he keep it up?

Taking no notice of Hiccup's discomfort, Dagur was ranting with the animation of a child on Snoggletog. "I mean, you were like bam! Wham!" He swung his dusty blade this way and that, making the air whistle. "And then you were all," He took on the posture of a hero pleading his comrads to retreat, "'Dagur, save yourself!'" Now acting surprised, Dagur continued, "And I was like, 'what? Okay! I'm outta here!'" He pointed at Hiccup, his grin large enough to split his face in two. "But you stayed!" He babbled, "And then you musta..."

His excitment was like a paper thrown in a furnance: it faded as quickly as it had appeared. The goofy smile slipped off Dagur's face, and his eyes grew cold. Suddenly resembling a lion closing in on a gazelle, the Berserker chief asked, "So..." He held up his sword, the tip aimed at Hiccup, "...what _are_ you doing here?"

Holding his hands up, Hiccup asked, "What _am_ I doing here?"

"Don't answer that!" Dagur retorted, bringing the tip a little too close for Hiccup's liking. "I know exactly what you're doing here."

A dozen or so images flashed before Hiccup's eyes all at once. He saw Toothless, his friends, and their dragons.

All of them, somewhere on this island. In the same area as _Dagur._

Hiccup felt his heart pick up the pace, but he didn't dare show it. If he displayed his fear, he and his dragons were as good as finished. Better keep calm and keep negotiation as a trunk card.

"Y-you do?" He asked, trying not to sound too frightened.

"Oh, yeah. I do." Dagur's voice was low, but the darkness within it was impossible to overlook. As the campfire's flames painted shadows on his face, the young chief stated, "You're here for the same reason I am, Hiccup. You're here..." The smile he gave the heir was rather, well, _berserk_. "...to hunt dragons."

Hiccup felt as though he'd been paralyzed by the breath of a Flightmare. For a few seconds, he felt as though his limbs had been replaced with hunks of wood.

He was caught. Caught like a rabbit unfortunate enough to enter a fox's den, and he knew it.

There was no getting out of it, at least not yet. For now, Hiccup could only play along.

"Okay, ya got me." Hiccup tried to look relieved, like he'd been spared the responsibility of answering. "That's what I'm here for." He raised his voice, "All by myself!" Sniggering weakly again, Hiccup could only pray that his message was recieved.

"So," Hands on hips, Dagur walked towards Hiccup, "Whatever happened to that Night Fury, Hiccup?"

"Oh, yeah, well, just...bad news. Uhhh...got away." Hiccup tried lamely, half expecting Dagur to snort and demand for the truth.

Instead, the excitement returned. Grabbing Hiccup by the shoulders again (this time hard enough to leave eggplant-purple bruises), Dagur grinned, "That's great news!"

Caught off guard, Hiccup frowned, "I-it is?"

"Yes!" Dagur dropped Hiccup and looped an arm around his skinny shoulders. "New plan: you and I are gonna hunt down the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself." Not seeing Hiccup growing paler, Dagur continued, "We're gonna take down that Night Fury once and for all!" Finally, he let go of Hiccup and walked towards the campfire. He knelt down in front of it, which puzzled Hiccup. Then again, just about everything about the chief confused him.

"Uhh...okay, uh-" Hiccup's pathetic excuse for a response was cut off by Dagur yanking Hiccup down, making him kneel in front of the fire. Throwing his head back, the young chief howled like a demented wolf. "C'mon, howl with me. It feels good." Not giving Hiccup time to respond, he howled again, this time cackling hysterically in the process. Hiccup tried it, but deep down, he felt like getting up, running through the dense jungle, and get off this wretched island with his friends.

The two boys continued to howl - one with zero enthusiasm, the other harboring enough for five people - with no acknowledgement of the beings hidden in the bushes, amongst the trees' branches, and in the dust. With intelligent eyes - some dragon, some human - they observed these newcomers. Already, they were anticipating the time when these two boys would join them.

A new addition to the family.

* * *

"Yaah!" Astrid swung her axe down, ready to split the creature's head in two. The creature squawked and was ten feet away before Astrid had time to blink. The axe dug into the soft cool earth, barely missing the Monstrous Nightmare hybrid's tail by a centimeter.

Hanging from a low branch, the creature eyed Astrid curiously. It tilted its head like a bird.

If anything, the creature's level-headedness only angered the blonde Viking further. "You're not getting away that easy!" With another battle cry, she plucked her axe out of the ground and tossed it at the creature. She blinked, and the axe was impaled in the tree branch.

Astrid swore enough curses to win her a gold medal in the Crude Olympics. Then, she marched to her axe, grabbed its leathery handle, and pulled.

From the tree's higher branches, a pair of hands slowly lowered. They were wiry with muscles, tightly covered by the catsuit's black cloth. As Astrid struggled to get her weapon, the hands closed around her, fingers dented.

Then, just as Astrid got her axe out, the hands grabbed her by the arms and swung her into the tree. The blonde Viking let out a shriek before fighting against the hands holding onto her arms. She kicked and growled, trying to get loose.

With an enraged howl, the creature shoved her against the tree trunk and clasped a long-clawed hand over her throat, keeping her there. Astrid scowled. Did this thing honestly believe she could be restrained that easily?  
She was going to avenge Stormfly if it was the last thing she did.

Astrid hawked loudly and spat on the creature's helmet, right where its eye would be.

The creature gasped before roaring in Astrid's face, blowing her blonde tousles back. Astrid grimaced and looked away, but she did see her attacker's teeth from the corner of her eye.

Like the Whispering Death, this creature had razor-like teeth that rotated in its mouth like a chainsaw. There were bits of rotting meat stuck here and there, which gave Astrid a much more clear view of what was awaiting her.

If she gave up, that is.

"SHUT UP!" Astrid sucker-punched it under the chin, making it yelp. Its grip on her throat loosened, and Astrid didn't dare miss her opportunity. She slipped under the creature's arm and ran down the thick branch, almost grateful that her assailant had picked such a large sturdy spot. Otherwise, she would've fallen and possibly broken a bone.

But the creature wasn't through with her yet. With a roar that would've put the Screaming Death to shame, it tackled Astrid from behind. Snarling like an animal, it spun her around so she could get a look at her executioner. Its claws sunk into the bark on either side of Astrid's head and one of its knees was pressing into her stomach.

Astrid Hofferson could hardly believe it. Even as reality grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look it in the eye, she refused to accept it.

She was completely, and utterly, immobilized.

The creature's face was nearly a foot away from hers, but she could still see it. The mask's straps had loosened, making the veil hang lopsided over the creature's face. With a slight growl of annoyance, the creature grabbed its helmet and yanked it off. Rivers of hair the color of the moonlight spilled out and curtained around Astrid. The creature tossed its head like a horse, trying to get its hair out of the way.

Astrid nearly screamed.

The creature staring back at her was a befuddling mix of human and dragon. It had a very human - female - face, heart-shaped with a widow's peak and a cleft chin. She had horns similar to a Monstrous Nightmare's growing out of her temples. Instead of a nose, she had two tiny holes that flared with each breath. Her white skin hovered between normal human flesh and scales, as though it couldn't decide. The pallor of her skin rendered the bright red rings around her eyes all the more disturbing, like she had some hideous skin disease.

The girl's irises were the color of fresh blood, and right now, they were entirely concentrated on Astrid's terrified face.

_'I'm gonna die.'_ Astrid found herself thinking, _'This thing's gonna kill me. I'm gonna die.'_

The albino girl tilted her head, as if she could hear Astrid's thoughts. She leaned forward, making Astrid whimper and wince in anticipation for what was to come. The girl's tail whipped forth like an angry snake, and Astrid saw a curved, needle-sharp stinger emerge from the tip. The tip brushed Astrid's cheek, but it didn't sting her.

The girl frowned, slightly confused at her attacker's behavior. Why wasn't she going for the kill? All it would take is one move, and Astrid would be dead. The Hofferson wasn't complaining of course, but she was still befuddled.

The girl never once looked away from her prey, crimson eyes floating amongst the white. Her expression was blank, as though there was no actual person behind that mask.

Then, finally, the girl lowered her stinger. Astrid's eyes widened, but before she could conjure up another thought, her attacker opened her mouth. An eerie gutteral noise escaped the girl's colorless lips, like she was being strangled. Clearing her throat, she tried again. With some effort, she managed to say a single word.

A name.

"_Aaaaaaaaaaasssssstriiiiiiddddd_."

Astrid's heart nearly stopped beating.

It knew her name.

The girl smiled slightly at her accomplishment, and just for a second, Astrid could've sworn she'd seen this girl before.

The moment ended. The collar around the girl's neck suddenly began to beep, making the girl gasp. Suddenly panicked, she rose to her feet, leaving Astrid lying on her back. As the Viking girl watched, the stinger shrank back in the girl's tail like a cat's retractable claw. The albino girl hurriedly collected her helmet and placed it back over her face, hiding away those big red eyes and placid expression.

She looked at Astrid once again, torn between leaving and staying.

Then, with a shriek, the albino girl spread out her arms. Large wings sprouted from her back, and with an almighty jump she was flying.

Astrid pushed herself into a sitting position, suddenly very cold despite the night's warmth. She hugged herself, staring after the shrinking dot that had come within millimeters of killing her.

Who was that girl? Why hadn't she killed her?

How did she know Astrid's name?


	7. Chapter 6: Sea of Blood

**I must say, I'm a bit disappointed that I've received so few reviews. I mean, I'm grateful for the views, but I'd like a bit more support than that, especially since it took me a week to work out the plot - character history, twists, and all. So, here's my last attempt: if I receive even ONE more review, I'll continue the story. If not, I'm taking this story down. I don't want to do this, but what's the point in writing a story nobody's interested in?**

* * *

Chapter 6: Sea of Blood  


Eventually, the two boys stopped howling. Hiccup was thankful for that at least: he'd found it ridiculous, awkward, and altogether humiliating. If any of his comrades had witnessed it, they would've mocked him until he reached decrepitude.

But that was the least of his problems. Right now, his friends and their dragons were on the same island as Dagur the Deranged, one of the most blood-thirsty dragon slayers Hiccup had ever seen. How could he protect them without giving himself away? If Dagur found out the truth, he could (and most likely would) declare war on the Hooligan tribe. And to quote Gobber, Berserkers 'tended to play for keeps'.

But first things first. Hiccup kept that in mind when Dagur sat on the log in front of the campfire, admiring one of his swords like it was his only concern in the world.

"So, Dagur, uh..." Hiccup scratched the back of his head, "How're you...I mean, what're you...?"

Dagur frowned. "What do you mean? You know I'm here to hunt dragons, Hiccup. Just like you." His scowl twisted into a dark smile. "Especially _one_ dragon."

Hiccup's blood turned to ice in his veins.

_Toothless!_

"W-which one?" He asked, doing his best to play the fool.

Dagur chuckled as he placed his sword down. "Well, I came here to learn about dragons. I got the idea when I saw you fight that Night Fury. It's like you...you knew that dragon. You were inside its head, rattling its cage. And that's when I decided I needed to learn about 'em too." He paused and rubbed his side. Out of curiosity, Hiccup allowed his gaze to drift where Dagur's hand was.

He blanched. Dagur's side was heavily bandaged with rags, and patches of blood were visible even in the campfire's orange light.

"What in Thor's name...?" He began.

Dagur noticed his 'friend's expression and immediately caught on. "Oh, this? Nah, I've had a lot worse." He pulled his hand away. "But let's just say I'm here to get even with a dragon."

Hiccup's eyebrows met in the middle and shook hands. "What happened?"

Dagur cracked his knuckles, snickering devilishly. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he bellowed, "Gather 'round, kids! It's time for Dagur's Campfire Special!" Then, he laughed at his own joke.

Hiccup arched a brow at the cackling Berserker, but he remained reticent.

"Okay," Dagur wiped his eye as his laughter died down, "It was a couple of days...weeks, maybe...ago. I'd been on my ship headed for this place. But then..." He threw a stick into the fire, making the flames brighten with hunger...

* * *

_Sparks flew from Dagur's axe as he sharpened it. If he was going to use it to take down dragons, he needed it to be at its most jagged. The teenager cackled as he watched the dullness leave the fine iron edge, leaving nothing but knife-like sharpness and a guarantee to kill._

_"Ah, there we go!" He grinned as he held his axe up. The setting sun cast its last golden rays on the blade, making it glint with murderous intent. But he knew that weapons, like soldiers, couldn't just look good: they had to give what they promised._

_Which is why Dagur aimed at a passing Berserker soldier, held the axe behind his head, and threw it as hard as he could. "Yaah!" He cried._

_The soldier barely had time to react. With a (rather unmanly) yelp, he ducked to the ground; the flying axe missed his head by millimeters, severing a few stray hairs._

_Then, the axe impaled a wooden beam, burying itself all the way to the hilt._

_"Ha, ha!" Dagur's grin threatened to split his face in two. "Excellent! Even better than before!" Adjusting his belt, the young chief strolled to where his axe lay and extracted it from the now-cracked beam. It took him a couple of minutes and a lot of pulling, but in the end, his axe was back in its rightful place: in his fist._

_Dagur took a moment to really admire the axe. He'd recieved it for his twelfth birthday, just over six years ago. That was when his father had deemed Dagur old enough to begin training. The axe had been carefully crafted to be handled by a boy but still capable of inflicting harm._  
_It was just over a foot in length, and the blade itself was about half that size. The Berserkers' crest, the Skrill, was artfully crafted into the wooden handle. It had faded a bit with time, and the wood had grown worn and smooth with age. A few brown stains that used to be crimson tainted the cracks._

_Dagur grinned, his father's last screams still ringing in his ears. Ah, those cries had been sweeter than honey, better than any music he could ever hear! The day he'd cut his father in two like a piece of kindling, that had been without a doubt one of the greatest days of Dagur's young life. He'd never even washed the bloodstains out: otherwise, the memory would begin to dwindle, and he didn't want that._

_"Land ho!" One of his men's yell tore Dagur from his thought. With a small growl of annoyance, he tucked the axe in its hilt on his back before yelling back, "Well?! Are we there?!"_  
_"Yes, chief!" The soldier shouted in response, "I can see Dragon Island dead ahead! Maybe another ten miles!"_  
_Dagur's momentary scowl shifted to a pleased smile. "Perfect." He glanced over his shoulder to see the entire armada following his ship, each one filled to the brim with armed Berserker soldiers. Then, he turned around to face the towering black smudge he assumed to be the island. Folding his strong arms across his chest, the Berserker chief stared at the island and imagined all the dragons on._

_Oh, what entertaining sport this would be!_

_An unearthly roar nearly knocked the chief off his feet. Dagur barely managed a, 'Huh?' as he looked up, as did the rest of his men._

_The sight waiting for him was enough to rattle whatever was left of his sanity._

_An army of winged monsters was headed straight towards his ship. Dagur did a quick headcount and counted sixty, maybe seventy. He wouldn't have been worried if these had been dragons. All it would take is an arrow to the heart or head, and they would be done for._

_But these definitely weren't dragons. They were something much, much more hellish._

_Some of them looked like humans with wings, tails, and/or claws. Others were dragons with human-like faces and/or builds. They spat fire and shot spikes, dodging the flying swords, axes, and arrows several soldiers were already throwing._

_Oh, this was how they wanted to play? Fine! Be it dragon, animal, or human, if they wanted to attack Dagur the Deranged, Dagur the Deranged would sure as hell counter-attack!_

_"Berserkers, ATTACK!" Dagur screamed before pulling out his crossbow. A fire-ball flew straight at him; he cartwheeled out of the way, never missing a beat. Putting an arrow into place, Dagur grinned and aimed at one of the incoming monsters._

_One of the monsters (a Whispering Death with a human body instead of a long, ribbon-like one) roared and charged at him, its wings a blur over its giant head._

_"Arrow, meet dragon." Dagur purred. With that, he released the arrow; it flew like a bird and buried itself deep inside one of the creature's eyes. It shrieked in agony as it lost its flight. Dagur shot another arrow at it for good measure, sending it face-first in the ocean._

_"Oh, yeah!" Dagur cheered as he released a third arrow. "That's how I roll!" The arrow hit a Gronckle with a human face, and the beast collapsed at the chief's booted feet. He threw his arms up like a stage performer. "I'm right here, come and get me!"_

_The monsters all roared in response, all too happy to comply._

_The battle raged on, staining the blue waters red. Body parts, both from the creatures and the Berserker soldiers, floated in the waves like chunks of wood. More and more pieces of the ship were being torn away and sent adrift into the sea, but Dagur couldn't have cared less. He was having the time of his life._

_"Yaaaah!" With a swing of his axe, three heads flew into the air like confetti. Blood splashed on him, dousing him from head to toe. Unscathed, Dagur stuck his tongue out and licked some blood off his cheek. The coppery taste sent him on overdrive. Was this was a high felt like?!_

_With a frenzied laugh, Dagur walked over to a fallen creature, still twitching on the blood-soaked wood. Never missing a beat, he sliced off its wings and legs, listening to its anguished cries. Then, finally, he brought the axe down on its head, silencing it in the blink of an eye._

_'NOOOOOOOO!' A girl's voice, strained with horror, echoed in his head. Dagur groaned and clutched the side of his head, feeling a migrained come. Confusion settled over him. What was this?! He'd heard plenty of people scream, but never from within his skull!_

_Before he could even begin to recover, Dagur felt a great weight pin him down. With a shout, Dagur flung his axe aimlessly, hoping to maim his attacker._

_Instead, his attacker caught the axe in its mouth and crushed it as though it were an ice cube._

_Dagur's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. The face mere centimeters from his belonged to the most horrifying dragon he'd ever seen. Its face was as white as a polished skull, with bulging eyes the color of cherries and needle-like teeth. Its claws dug into the delicate skin of his wrists, making blood bead like crimson gems. Then, its tail appeared in front of Dagur's face; a poisonous stinger grew out of the scaly tip, shining like a venin tear._

_The two stared at each other for what felt like eternity but was really only a couple of seconds. Dagur was certain that this thing would kill him, and he didn't entirely mind. He'd given up his fear of death long ago. But what really caught him off guard was this creature's hesitation._

_Why wasn't it going for the kill?_

_The creature sneered in Dagur's face, scaly lips curling away from yellow bared fangs. Its eyes locked into his, but just for a second, they became human. Still blood-red in color, but smaller and with whites instead of being bottomless red holes._

_They were eyes that he knew._

_The creature's snarl transformed into a wry smile, befuddling the young leader even more._

_Once again, the girlish voice whispered in his mind:_

_'See you later, D.'_

_Then, with a snort, the creature released him. The poisonous stinger retreated inside its tail as the creature stood up. It looked like a bit of every dragon Dagur knew, all mixed together into a single entity: it had the body of a Night Fury, but completely white in color. Its wings resembled those of Skrill, gigantic and emitting tiny eletrical bolts. Its claws were as long and sharp as a Monstrous Nightmare's. Its tail, like a Terrible Terror's, was thin and worm-like. Like a Whispering Death, spikes grew out of its back._

_The monster spread its wings, letting out a hair-raising shriek. The remaining monsters all stared at it, ready to take order. The monster howled, jerking its head at the island. It took the sky, its surviving followers in close persuit._

_Dagur lay on his back, staring at the beasts retreat, before regaining control over himself. Scrambling to his feet, he pointed at them. "Berserkers, fire!" He shouted, his voice hoarse from all his yelling._

_Several arrows sliced through the air, impeccably hitting their targets and sending them tumbling into the ocean. The white monster cast one last glance at Dagur, a sorrowful look in its eyes. Then, it flapped its wings harder and disappeared into the mist._

_Dagur, standing on his sinking ship, stared after it in awe. He was so captivated by the white monster, he didn't take notice the bodies of its slain companions, which were crashing down like bloody meteors._

_One creature - humanoid, with the wings and tail of a Whispering Death - crashed right in front of Dagur. Its limp tail swung into his side full-force, sending him face-first into the warm bloody water._

_The Berserker chief sunk into the crimson water, which was growing darker from the blood flowing from his injury. He sunk past ripped-off body parts of monsters and soldiers alike. His lungs burned whitely with the need to inhale. He tried to kick his way towards the surface, but to no avail. He was sinking like a rock, and there was nothing he could do about it._

_The huge shadow of another ship sailed (ha!) into Dagur's blurring view. He could hear the faint sounds of men shouting far above his head. Then, a rope was thrown into the water, creeping towards him like a water snake._

_Resisting the urge to laugh (he hardly needed water in his lungs), the young chief grabbed the rope and yanked it to inform his soldiers that he was there._

_A second later, he was pulled out of the water, coughing and heaving. His men pulled him onto the second ship, one soldier draping a wool blanket over his shoulders. Another immediately pressed a cloth against his still-bleeding side. "Sir? Sir!" One soldier asked, "Are you alright?"_

_Dagur coughed, "Yeah, I'm fine." He glared at the island, which was closer than before._

_His white beast was there, waiting for him._

_His forest-green eyes narrowed. "Keep going forward."_

* * *

"So now ya know, Hiccup." Dagur finished, taking great pleasure in the shock evident on the Hooligan heir's face. "I'm here to kill the monster that sunk my ship."


	8. Chapter 7: H50

**Okay, I'll continue the story. Thank you, inceinherheart :) I assure you I won't issue a restraining order. And I AM writing because I want to; it's just, I wouldn't mind a bit of acknowledgement, especially since I see other stories have over a hundred reviews. Thank you very much for the kind review.  
**

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Chapter 7: H50  


"Yaah, hi-yah! Snotlout Jorgensen." The muscular boy grinned to himself. Swinging his sword again, he added, "Super Viking." As if posing for a crowd of screaming fans, he lay down on a log lying over a river. "At home in the wilderness, and-" He suddenly lost his balance, ending his speech with a scream and a loud splash.

Coughing and spitting water out of his mouth, Snotlout climbed out of the river and onto dry land. As he adjusted his helmet, the bushes in front of him rustled. Snotlout steeled himself for whatever would emerge. If they were small enough to hide in bushes, they would probably be Terrible Terrors. Or maybe they were hatchlings of some other dragon species.

Snotlout took a deep breath, ready for anything...

...Except for what _did_ crawl out of hiding.

"Oh, Thor..." Snotlout stumbled several steps backward, his gray eyes wide.

He wasn't even sure _what_ he was looking at. It looked like a human toddler, but completely bald and with spikes growing out of its back. Not only that, but its skin glowed neon-blue like a Flightmare's. It gurgled curiously, tilting its head at the stranger, before opening its mouth. Its teeth were the size of Snotlout's fingers, sharp as broken glass. The boy yelped, falling flat on his bottom and crawling backwards.

The toddler made another noise, this time of curiosity, before reaching out to Snotlout with long-nailed hands.

Without thinking, Snotlout grabbed his sword and swung it. "S-stay away from me!" He screamed. By a sheer stroke of luck, he managed to slice the toddler's arm, making it cry with pain. It pulled its arm back, glowing tears streaming down its face like pearls.

"Ha, ha!" Snotlout climbed to his feet, his fear giving way to overconfidence. "Take that, you little monster!" He jerked a large thumb at his chest. "Nobody messes with Snotlout!"

A ferocious roar whipped the night air, making the teenager become still as a rock. He watched with impossibly large eyes as the bushes rustled again, this time concealing something much larger and dangerous.

A female mutant (mostly human, but with a Flightmare's glowing skin, tail, and wings) flew into sight, landing in front of her baby. She snarled at Snotlout, razor-sharp teeth clenched.

"Uh..." Snotlout felt his heart pound against his ribs like a steel hammer. He followed that primal instinct embedded in all living creatures: to flee from danger. Dropping his sword, he yelled, "Gotta go!" He spun on his heel and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

But Mama wasn't finished with him yet. Placing her child securely on her shoulders, she howled angrily before pursuing the Hooligan teen, teeth bared and claws outstretched.

The mother swung its tail at Snotlout, hoping to knock him off balance. Instead, the boy saw it coming and ducked. But in the darkness, he couldn't see where he was going. His foot collided with a rotten log, sending him tumbling downhill. Snotlout screamed as he rolled down, the branches slicing him and the rocks leaving bruises on his skin.

Finally he reached the bottom of the hill, face-down. Spitting out some stray twigs and a couple of insects, Snotlout forced himself into a sitting position. "Damn, Astrid." He readjusted his helmet, then his vest. "'Let's go to Dragon Island', you said! 'It'll be fun', you said!" He growled, mimicking Astrid's words in a ridiculously high voice.

Another howl cut off his rant, making goose-bumps cover his skin. "Oh, no." He looked up to meet the entirely white eyes of Mama Mutant, who was smiling at him like she was seeing an old friend...

...or something good to eat.

Again, Snotlout Jorgensen acted on instinct and not thought. He kicked dust in the creature's eyes, making it cry out and cover its face. "Bye, bye!" He mocked as he got to his feet and widened the gap between them as much as he could.

Before he made it thirty feet, something grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to a small grotto.  
Oh, no! Not more members of the family!

"HELP!" He shouted, "HEEELP-"

A human hand covered his mouth. "Shut _up_, Snotlout! They'll hear us!" A familiar voice hissed, annoyance clear in every word.  
Snotlout relaxed, and he smiled under his rescuer's hand. Pulling it away, he said in a hushed tone, "Thanks, angel-face. I owe you."

"Don't call me angel-face." Astrid warned him, a bored look on her face. "Let's just wait until it leaves." She punched him in the arm hard enough to break the bone. "What the hell d'you do to set it off anyway?"

"Uh...nothing." Snotlout lied, not wanting to admit his stupidity to the academy's prettiest girl.

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She folded her arms, "Let's just find the others, get Tuffnut, and get off this island. It's not safe."

For once, Snotlout found himself agreeing with the blonde Viking. He hadn't exactly anticipated a walk in the park, but this was absurd.

"Okay." He nodded, settling himself on the dusty cave floor. "Soo...we wait?"

"Yep." Astrid replied as though she were speaking to a very young, very retarded child. "Until it's quiet, and even then we'll wait ten minutes, just to be sure."

"Okay." Snotlout smirked. "Y'know, this is kinda nice. You. Me. Here. Together." He wiggled his eyebrows, a devious smile on his face. "_Alone_."

For an answer, he recieved a punch in the face.

* * *

"So...you're saying you could hear that thing's voice in your head?" Hiccup asked as he and Dagur treaded through the tenebrous forest. The young chief, who hadn't let go of his crossbow since they left the safety of camp, gave his new hunting buddy a nod. "Yeah. It was really freaky. It was like..." He paused, trying to think of an accurate description. "...Like, a girl was whispering right in my ear."

"Did you know the voice?" Hiccup asked, "'Cuz I'm starting to think that, maybe, it wanted you to come here."

For the first time, Dagur froze. "What d'you mean?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious to hear Hiccup's theory.

Hiccup raised his eyebrows in surprise before continuing. "Well, think about it. It led an army of dragons...humans...whatever those things were, to sink your ship. Just your ship, not all the others. Then, it could've easily killed you, but it chose not to." He shook his head, "It can't be a coincidence."

"So you think it's a trap?" Dagur asked, glancing at Hiccup with wide, forest-green eyes.

"Uh...maybe." Hiccup nodded.

To his even greater surprise, Dagur chuckled. "Oh, Hic! Don't you know that a trapper's trap can trap the trapper?"

Hiccup frowned. "What does that even _mean?_"

"I don't know!" Dagur exclaimed before throwing his head back and unleashing a demented crow. Then, he broke into a run, much to his hunting companion's exasperation. Taking a deep breath, Hiccup raced after the Berserker chief, doing his best to keep up. His legs felt like they were made of rubber and his lungs felt like sponges. But before Hiccup could even consider giving up, Dagur spun around and grabbed a fistful of his auburn hair, stopping him.

"Eyes front, little man!" He declared, a wide grin on his sooty face.

Thankfully, he let go of Hiccup's hair, which was when the Hooligan heir replied, "Uh...maybe you should take a little break."

"Not until I take down that white monster!" Dagur answered, "Or the Night Fury, whichever comes first."

"But why the Night Fury?" Hiccup asked, "What's he - er, it - got anything to do with what happened?"

Dagur snickered, "It didn't, but I don't care!" He pointed at his head. "I just think its skull would make a great helmet!"

It was a good thing the chief turned around; otherwise, he would've seen Hiccup's face go three shades paler.

That was the _only_ reason? Dagur was willing to slaughter one of the rarest dragons in existence...just to use its skull as a head ornament?!

No. There was no way in heaven or earth that Hiccup would let Dagur harm a scale on Toothless's body. If he so much as thought of aiming that crossbow at the black dragon, Hiccup would use his shield to bash the older boy's brains in. Hiccup didn't care if it would lead to war. Enough was enough.

In that moment, Hiccup actually felt sorry for the Berserker tribe for being led by this nutcase. How could Oswald, such a wise and kind-hearted leader, retire and leave the reins for his madman of a son?!

Or...wait.

_Had_ Oswald retired?

"Uh, Dagur." He began, "How's, uh, your father doing?"

The corner of Dagur's mouth curved upward. Without looking back at his hunting comrad, he answered, "Oh, don't worry. He's sleeping like the dead."

Hiccup felt the air around him drop ten degrees. Not trusting his voice, he gave no reply. The young chief's answer hadn't exactly put his anxieties to rest.

Suddenly, something rustled in the trees above their heads. Dagur stepped beside Hiccup almost protectively, crossbow at the ready. Both boys' eyes darted from left to right, every sense on high alert. Every couple of seconds, a small cry echoed through the air, making both boys stiffen. Hiccup's heart accelerated, but he refused to let fear take over. Dagur, too, felt the slightest twinge of intimidation. But just like his new companion, he put a cork in it.

The rustling continued for a few seconds before finally coming to an end. Hiccup waited a few beats before stepping away from Dagur, examining his surroundings. Finally, he said, "Well, whatever it was, it's gone now."

Dagur was about to lower his crossbow before gasping, "HICCUP!"

Hiccup spun around to see something hanging upside down - half an inch from his face.

The creature yowled savagely, revealing rows of thorny teeth. Hiccup screamed along with it before falling backwards. Dagur released an arrow, which hit the creature in the shoulder. The creature shrieked in agony before falling head-first on the dirt. It lay on the ground, still as a rag doll.

Hiccup stared at the creature with huge eyes, his skinny chest rising and falling with each gasp. It was without a doubt the most freakish thing he'd even laid eyes upon, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to fear it.

It was actually...a female.

Hiccup slowly got to his feet with a little help from Dagur. He walked in a circle around the creature, who was breathing hard and bleeding from the arrow in its shoulder.

It was a young girl, maybe around Dagur's age, dressed in a skintight catsuit the color of ink. Her build was muscular but not very feminine, having a flat chest and small hips. Monstrous Nightmare horns were growing out of her temples, sticking out like tree branches.  
She had a long, hairless tail that curled around her feet like a dead snake. Her long hair, which was even whiter than her skin, spilled out around her head like a puddle of melted silver. Her hands had long, curved claws that looked sharp enough to slice through bone, and her knees bent backwards like a chicken's.

It...she...looked ready to pass out from the pain, and Hiccup's heart went out to her. Mutant or not, no being deserved this. Carefully, he knelt down in front of the hybrid.

"Hiccup!" Dagur yelled, panic seeping in his voice. He aimed the crossbow at the horned girl. "C'mon, get away from it! It's dangerous!"

Tuning the chief out, Hiccup wrapped his fingers around the arrow and yanked it out. It made a revolting _shlop_ sound, and the point was slippery with blood.

The girl's eyes flew open, pupils dialated. She screamed in Hiccup's face, the yell loud enough to knock him backwards. Quick as lightning, she bolted into the forest, disappearing from sight.

Dagur aimed the crossbow at the bushes the girl had disappeared into. "Stay back, I'm gonna shoot it!"

"No, wait!" Hiccup shouted, holding his thin hand up. Then, he carefully made his way to the bushes.

Dagur stomped his foot in frustration. "Hic, I said _'stay back'_!" Seeing that the other boy wasn't listening, the Berserker swore like a sailor but did little else.

Carefully, Hiccup reached into his belt and extracted the small dagger he always carried with him. Then, he threw it away as far as he could. Dagur stared at the young boy, perplexed.

What was he _doing?!_

Hiccup crouched down and held out his hand, palm up. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He said in a soft, gentle voice he usually reserved for frightened dragon hatchlings.

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then, a long horn emerged from the bush. The girl poked her face out, her expression guarded yet curious. Hiccup managed the shadow of a smile. "C'mere, girl. I'm not gonna hurt you." He repeated, injecting more kindness in his tone.

The girl's crimson eyes locked with Hiccup's forest-green ones. Carefully, on all fours, the girl crept out of the bushes, her pearly hair trailing behind her. She tilted her head like a bird, wondering why this stranger hadn't tried to lop her head off yet. Slowly, the hostility left her face, leaving nothing but childlike interest.

At this range, Hiccup saw that the open wound that'd been on her shoulder a moment ago had sealed itself up. Now, the exposed patch of ivory skin only bore a thin scar.

_'Amazing,'_ He thought, shaking his head.

Finally, the girl was within touching distance. Like an animal, she sniffed Hiccup's hand, familiarizing herself with the scent. This boy smelled like fish, a smell she liked, and leather reins.

Hiccup's tiny smile grew. "You're really something, aren'tcha?" He asked.

Suddenly, the spell broke. The girl pulled away, her perviously open expression darkened. Her lips pulled away from bared teeth, and her eyes narrowed. Angry hisses and growls escaped her lips, and she took a couple of steps back. A stinger grew out of the tip of her tail, ready to attack. Hiccup frowned in disorientation, unaware of the figure behind him.

What in the name of Thor...?

He caught on just in time. Hiccup spun around and grabbed Dagur's arm before it could come down, the axe aimed at the horned girl's head. The albino girl hissed and snarled at the Berserker as he weakly swung at her. Hiccup pulled the older boy away, "Stop! Hey!"

"C'mon, get outta here!" Dagur, deaf to Hiccup's words, yelled at the girl as he continued to swing at her. "Go on, git!"

The albino girl didn't retreat, though she _did_ back away until only her head remained exposed. She glared at Dagur like she wanted nothing more than to turn him inside out.

"Dagur, what're you doing?!" Hiccup snapped once he and the young chief were a good three meters away.

Dagur stared at the Hooligan heir like _he_ was the weird one. "Me?! What're **_you_ **doing?! You were this close," He held his forefinger and thumb less than a centimeter apart, "To it! You could've stabbed it in the forehead just like that!"

"No way." Hiccup shook his head, "She was just scared, that's all!" He looked back at the albino girl, who hadn't left...yet.

"C'mon." He pleaded Dagur. "I really think she could help us out."

Dagur arched a disbelieving brow, hands on hips.

Seeing the futility of his words, Hiccup tried speaking in Dagur's language. "It can lead us to the thing that sunk your ship." He tried, "Or the Night Fury. We'll just see how it goes. I-if it doesn't help us, we can just kill it."

To his relief, Dagur's expression brightened. "Good idea, Hic." He lightly punched Hiccup in the shoulder. "You're smart, I'll give ya that." For the moment, he tucked his axe away. "I'll put it to sleep. You work on training it." He pulled out what looked like a wooden flute, took aim, and blew into it.

A feathered dart hit the girl in the side of the neck. The girl's eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in a heap on the dirt.

"Er...okay." Hiccup, a little uncertain at the chief's action, moved back to the girl. Unsure of where to start, he wrapped her limp arm around his shoulders and lifted her up. It wasn't easy, but when Dagur lunged and wrapped the girl's other arm around his shoulder, they lifted her off the ground.

As the two boys moved back to the camp, Hiccup noticed something. The girl's head hung low, and her knee-long hair spilled over her shoulders. The skin on the back of her neck was visible, if Hiccup craned his neck a bit.

Something was written there, the black ink contrasting the pallor of the girl's skin.

_'**H50**'_.


	9. Chapter 8: Bloody Relations

Chapter 8: Bloody Relations  


"H50..."

Hiccup Haddock Horrendous III spoke the word to no one except the night sky. It hung above his head like another bright star before dying out. Ever since he and Dagur had dragged the albino mutant back to Dagur's camp, the Hooligan heir had been pondering over her like she was a puzzle he simply had to solve.

She certainly _looked_ like an enigma. H50, if that's what her name was, wasn't a human or a dragon: she was a wayward combination of both.

Wait a minute...H50...did the name say more about the person than Hiccup had initially realized?

Newly inspired, Hiccup racked his brains until he was on the verge of triggering a migraine. Finally, he cracked the code:

'H' stood for 'human', naturally. So, following that logic, the '50' represented a percentage. This meant that H50 had, well, fifty percent human DNA in her system.

But what about the _other_ fifty percent?

Hiccup glanced at the secluded tent Dagur had dumped the girl in. It was at least ten yards away from the roaring campfire, so there was no way that the girl inside could feel the fire's warmth.

Dagur probably feared that the oddball would attack them the moment they fell asleep. Or perhaps he thought that if she'd been camped any closer to where he and Hiccup were, she'd sneak food past his beak-shaped nose.  
Hiccup couldn't say with certainty which was the real reason. With someone like the Berserker chief, there was no way to tell.

Hiccup sighed, noticing the way his breath turned to fog.

The day and evening had been comfortably warm. But as the pearly moon continued its slow path across the navy sky, the temperature had gradually dropped. Now, Hiccup was rubbing his bony arms and wishing he'd brought a shawl.

A sudden weight fell on the Hooligan heir's shoulders. As if by magic, the coldness left him.  
"What the...?" Hiccup glanced at his shoulders to find an unfamiliar fur cloak draped around them. A surprised chuckle left his lips as he huddled within the shawl, burrowing himself in its warmth. With this thing on, Hiccup felt he could survive even in a blizzard.

A snicker erupted from behind Hiccup, making him jolt. He spun around to see Dagur sit down beside him, a roasted yak leg in one hand and a well-sharpened anlace in the other. "M'glad ya like it, Hic." The Berserker stated as he elbowed the younger boy. "It's a combo: part yak fur, part sheep wool." With that, he examined his reflection in the knife before plunging it in the soil.

His skill and swiftness showed that this wasn't the first time he'd stabbed something, alive or dead, with a blade.

"Oh, nice." Hiccup commented, feeling suddenly awkward. He wasn't sure how to act with the guy who was hunting his best friend down. He stared at the dirt, which he half-heartedly kicked with his good foot. Dagur, unaware of his hunting companion's distress, took a savage bite out of the yak leg and swallowed it down, barely chewing. Juices streamed down his large chin and stained his leather armor. But Dagur was too hungry to care.

The food, enticing as it may have smelled, had the opposite effect on Hiccup. The sound of meat ripping off bone made Hiccup's stomach churn, chasing away any appetite he'd formerly had.

With his mouth full of barely-chewed yak, Dagur asked, "Scho, whudr yoo gonna do tuh twain da fweakshlow?"

Hiccup resisted the urge to groan in exasperation. "I'm sorry, come again?"

Dagur rolled his eyes and swallowed his food down. As he wiped his chin, he said, "I said, what're you gonna do to train the freakshow?"

Hiccup felt himself bristle at the last word. "Would you please not call her that?"

Dagur snorted, "Why not? She_ is_. Or do you need glasses?"

"Dagur, chances are she wasn't born that way." Hiccup stated, trying to keep his temper in check. "Something very wrong happened to her, and it probably wasn't her choice. Instead of being scared of her, you should try to understand her."

Dagur's eyes widened. He cackled like Hiccup had just made the funniest joke in existence. "Ha! Me, Dagur the Deranged?! Scared of _that?!_ Ha, ha!" He elbowed Hiccup again, this time knocking him over. "Oh, Hic, you _slay_ me!"

"Er...sure." Hiccup replied from the dirt. Clearing his throat, the Hooligan heir straightened and brushed the dust off his green tunic. He rose, clutching the blanket around his shoulders. "Anyway, I'm gonna go to sleep. It's been a long day."

Dagur nodded, "Yeah, good idea. Get your rest. Then, first thing tomorrow, we're gonna get us that Night Fury..._brother_." He added, a touch of fondness in his tone.

The last word stopped Hiccup in his tracks. He turned back and stared at the Berserker chief like he'd never seen him before. "'Brother'?" He repeated, unable to believe that he'd heard it correctly.

"That's right." Dagur winked at Hiccup, an impish grin gracing his lips. "You and me." Then, he continued to tear the meat off the yak's leg, eating like he hadn't been fed in months.

'Brothers'? With _this_ guy?

_'And the awkwardness continues.'_ Hiccup thought to himself as he retreated to camp. Trying not to think about his fraternizing with the enemy - and his friends still out there, completely on their own - Hiccup took one last gander at the tent at the far end of camp. Then, he entered his own.

The candle inside it was extinguished a moment later.

* * *

Meanwhile, H50 was far from bored.

She'd woken up less than an hour ago to find herself in totally alien surroundings. Instead of the late afternoon mist, she'd seen a single candle lying on the ground not too far from her, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. Instead of being in a small clearing like she last remembered, the mutant found herself in a tent.

Like the Master's.

Oh, Thor. Were they gonna cut her open here, too?! But - but the boy had seemed so nice! Why would he hurt her?!

In her panic, H50 had tried to make a hasty escape, but Dagur had already put that in consideration: a muzzle was fastened over her mouth, her clawed hands and feet were tied together with a ship's thick ropes, and a thick ball of wool had been tied at the end of her tail to avoid her attacking with her stinger.

H50 had laid there, unbelievably confused, before dugging her claws in the ropes binding her wrists together. The ropes snapped and fell uselessly on the dusty earth. Smirking in self-confidence, the mutant blew a long lock of silver hair out of her face before removing the ropes tying her feet together. The sudden release of pressure left the skin feeling raw.

Grimacing, H50 massaged her ankles before working up a big ball of saliva in her mouth. Removing her four-fingered hands, she spat on the raw skin. Within seconds, the redness vanished, and the skin returned to its previous smooth, white state.

Well, now H50 was free. Apart from the slight headache and fatigue, there was nothing keeping her here. So why not leave?

...Oddly enough, she didn't feel like leaving. Not yet, anyway. It's not like she had anything to do out there, except keep the Master entertained.

H50 shuddered. She _hated_ that man. **_Hated_**. If she could, she would make a cute little ribbon out of his guts and wear it around her neck. She would rip his heart out of his ribcage and force him to eat it. She would gut him and hang the corpse outside like a dead pheasant.

But, alas, she couldn't harm a white hair on his wrinkly little head. The Master was the only one on the island - in the entire Archipelago, probably - who knew how to make the serum she desperately needed.

Oh, which reminded her...

H50 craned her neck, trying to see the numbers on her collar. Once she did, she sighed in relief.

She still had a few hours.

Relieved for now, H50 stood up, shaking uneasily on her chicken-like legs. Flexing her toes, she began to explore her surroundings. She lifted her head and sniffed the air, taking in the dozen different smells of wool, the leather handles on weapons, roasting meat, and spices. The seemingly hundreds of different items covered the floor, like their owner hadn't had the time or the patience to restore them to their rightful place.

Well, why not explore a little?

H50 sat on her heels, her long tails swishing this way and that like a cat's. Her pointed ears perked up, she rummaged through the objects. Mostly, they were weapons: no big surprise there. H50 tossed them over her shoulder, not caring to give them further examination.  
Ah, but finally something _did_ capture her interest. Tilting her head to the left, then to the right, H50 pulled out a padlocked box from the seemingly bottomless pile weaponry.

One word was carved into the lid.

A name.

'DAGUR'.

A curious smile tugged at her lips as she stuck a claw in the lock, undoing it in the blink of an eye. Carefully, H50 removed the peg and left it on the dirt. Using her tail, she lifted the lid, revealing the box's contents to the candle's soft light. It was then that she realized that the lid's interior had a mirror. She stared at her reflection, then at the things inside, wondering where to begin.

Ah! At random, she grabbed a helmet too small for Dagur and placed it on her head. Luckily, the helmet's design avoided her Monstrous Nightmare horns. She tilted her head to the left, her crimson eyes never leaving the mirror. She turned her head this way and that, taking in her new look. Not bad. Cool, even. She could almost pass for a normal Viking girl.

Almost.

Tearing her gaze away, H50 picked up another random object. This time, it was an impressive-looking razor blade, ugly brown patches of rust already contaminating the silver. Splotches of blood dotted the sharp end of the razor, dried and darkened with age.  
Dagur's first shaving razor?

It looked like something the Master had, only he never let his tools get in such a poor condition.

Again, H50 shuddered. Dropping the razor and the nasty recollections it most likely represented, she searched through the box before finding something.

Something...small, circular, and flat. A portrait.

If H50 had been able to, she would've uttered a 'huh'? Instead, all she managed was an inquiring gurgle. With all eight of her clawed digits, she held up the small portrait and examined it closely.

It depicted a family, though none of them looked particularly mirthful.

The boy in the portrait was obvious Dagur, maybe four or five years old. H50 smiled; what a coincidence, that was the age she'd met him at! Five-year-old Dagur hadn't braided his hair back then; it'd been a frizzy, bright red mane. He was dressed in an oversized brown tunic, and he had black war paint on his face.

The man in the picture could only be Dagur's father, Oswald the Agreeable. He'd been a tall man with a muscular yet slender build, similar to what Dagur had now. His hair had been as black as a Night Fury's scales, and his eyes had been an exotic, wolflike amber. In the image he was the only one smiling, but it looked force.

The girl in the portrait, maybe ten older than Dagur, had to be his sister. If the name above her head was correct, her name was 'Damara'.

H50 smirked. The name meant 'bitter'. How fitting!

Damara was dressed in a salmon-colored tunic with lots of straps in it, exposing the tender pale skin underneath. The siblings shared the same hair color and beak-like nose, but instead of Dagur's forest-green eyes, this girl had eyes like melted onyx, entirely black and lacking any type of empathy.

But the mother...Valhallarama, that was her name.

H50 tilted her head, her brow furrowing. This woman...she looked a lot like Hiccup. The same bony figure, the same straight auburn hair, and the same button-like nose. And of course, she had the forest-green eyes that H50 had seen on Hiccup's face and...Dagur's.

H50 dropped the portrait and backed away from the box as though it had a nasty bug she didn't want to catch. Her heart started to pick up the pace, and without realizing it she dug her claws into the soil.

This meant...

H50 rounded to look at the two boys, who were sleeping in their own separate tents.

If the Master found out that they were actually related by blood, he might do it again. He might perform that experiment he'd tried once before, and had failed miserably. But that didn't mean that he wouldn't try again.

...No. The Master wasn't going to hurt either of them, not the boy who'd shown her kindness or the friend she'd had so long ago.

Suddenly determined, H50 ripped the wool off the tip of her tail and watched with satisfaction as a stinger emerged, sharp and deadly as a belladonna thorn. Then, going down on all fours, she crawled outside and sat between the two tents. If anyone - or anything - tried to get to either Dagur or Hiccup, it would have to go through H50 first.

Death would've been preferable.


	10. Chapter 9: True Name

Chapter 9: True Name  


H50 nearly fell asleep while she safeguarded the two tents. After all, it'd been a long day and she only ever got three or four hours of sleep every night. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, even if it was just for a moment. But H50 knew better: what started out as a five-minute nap could quickly transform into a nine-hour slumber.

No. She couldn't risk it.

H50 slapped herself in the face, wincing when her long claws accidentally cut her face. But there was no point in making a mountain out of a molehill; she'd gotten worse injuries from falling down the stairs. H50 simply worked up a ball of phlegm on her tongue and spat on the palm of her hand. Then, she wiped it on the three new, bleeding gashes. A second later, the cuts knitted themselves closed.

H50 grinned to herself.

'Super spit', as she had called it as a child. It worked every time.

Mumbling snatched her away from her thoughts. Tilting her head, H50 got on all fours and crept towards the noise. Her sharp ears brought her in one of the tents. To her surprise, the racket was coming from Dagur. The Berserker chief was curled up on his makeshift bed, hugging his crossbow as a child would with a teddy bear. His helmet and shoulder pads had been removed, and his boots had been kicked off.

Dagur frowned in his sleep before groaning quietly and rolling over on his side. Even in the dimness, H50 could see sweat beading the boy's forehead and trickling down his face like tiny diamonds.

"Get...get away from me! Gnnnm...n-no...no..." He whimpered, sounding nothing like his snarky, overconfident self. His voice was a few pitches higher, too; much like a boy before reaching puberty.

H50's white eyebrows arched as she sat on her heels, claws on lap, and watched the chief battle whatever demons he kept hidden from others. After a moment of watching the Berserker chief struggle, H50 did something she'd never done for anyone, not for the Master nor for the other creations.

Slowly, cautious of her long claws, H50 placed one of her hands on Dagur's head. Amazingly, the action had some effect: Dagur's whimpers decreased. Feeling a bit more daring, H50 massaged Dagur's scalp, earning her a tiny sigh from the slumbering chief. Dagur smiled in his sleep and rolled over, subconsciously turning to the mutant.

Seeing that the Berserker was no longer in pain, H50 removed her hand but didn't move from where she was stting. She took a couple of minutes to truly see how much Dagur had changed.

He was definitely more muscular than when they were kids. H50 remembered that when they were both six or seven, Dagur had been a walking toothpick. In fact, he'd been even thinner than Hiccup. Oswald had even begun to force-feed him starchy foods and loads of meat. In the end, Dagur had hidden mouthfuls of food and given them to H50 later on.

It wasn't just his build that had changed. His face had lengthened and his nose had grown, making his features tougher. H50 kind of liked it: his appearance matched his personality.

She probably would've stayed there staring at the sleeping young man until dawn. But the sound of a twig snapping turned her head.

Just like that, H50's psyche flipped like a switch. Now, she was in predator mode. The scales suddenly coating her skin and her fangs growing revealed that much.

Her pointed ears flattened against her skull as she crept out of Dagur's tent, her tail swishing from side to side. As the tail swayed, a stinger emerged from its tip, sharper than a dragon's tooth.

H50's crimson eyes searched the camp, looking for intruders.

Sure enough, a Monstrous Nightmare was approaching the camp, its body glowing softly. With its snout raised, it sniffed the air and detected the faint smell of smoke. It growled suspiciously before edging closer towards the source.

Big mistake.

H50 howled and tackled the Monstrous Nightmare, sending them both rolling on the dirt.

The dragon screeched in surprise, ripping the two boys out of their dreams. Dagur and Hiccup bolted out of their tents just in time to see the Monstrous Nightmare get H50 off. The mutant hit the ground with a grunt.

Hiccup took a step towards H50, but she noticed and wildly shook her head. The message came through loud and clear: _'Stay where you are'_.

Dagur raised his crossbow to his eye, taking aim.

"Dagur, don't. H50'll take care of it." Hiccup said, hoping that their new friend wouldn't go too far  
"I know." Dagur grinned, never lowering his weapon. "I'm taking him down anyway, just for fun."

Without thinking, Hiccup shoved the crossbow, preventing the Berserker from firing. The action set the chief off.

"How dare you?!" Dagur yelled, glaring down at the young Hooligan. His face slowly morphed into a sneer as Hiccup frantically tried to think up an excuse.  
"I-I had to! The Night Fury...would've...smelled it." He tried, praying to all the Gods his tribe worshipped that Dagur would fall for it.

The Gods must have been in a good mood, because Dagur's fury was quickly replaced by confusion. Frowning quizzically, he asked, "They can do that?"

Resisting the urge to sigh in relief, Hiccup went on with the (upteenth) deception. "Oh yes! Oh, excellent sense of smell. I-it would've sensed danger and fled." He continued, growing more confident with each word.

But his moment of pride was short-lived.

The Monstrous Nightmare howled and spun its head in the direction of the noise: exactly where the two boys were standing. It straightened in posture and opened its wide jaws. A fire-ball formed, as large and bright as a miniature sun.

Hiccup's face went white. "Odin's beard."

Dagur understood instantly and spun around. Not caring for the 'information' he'd just recieved, he held up the crossbow once more. They were under attack; if this wasn't an exception, nothing was.

Before he could shoot an arrow, H50 screeched and pounced on the dragon's head, making it miss its target by a few inches. The fire-ball sailed through the air like a comet; then, it crashed into the ground, leaving a burning dent large enough to hide an entire nest's worth of dragon eggs.

H50 grabbed the Monstrous Nightmare's horns with her claws and yanked them with all her strength, trying to get it away from the boys. The dragon howled and shook its head, trying in vain to get the girl off him. H50's eyes widened as she held onto the horns, this time for dear life.  
Her stinger accidentally grazed the Monstrous Nightmare's neck.

The skin bubbled and turned black.

The dragon yowled as the small dose of venom circulated its system. Its body turned into a tornado of fire as it flew off, desperate to get away.

H50's hold on the dragon's horns loosened. An unholy shriek escaped her as she skimmed through the air.

"Dagur!" Hiccup yelped.

"Way ahead of ya." Dagur dumped the crossbow in Hiccup's hands and ran forward, arms outstretched.

H50 crashed in his arms, nearly poking out his eye with her own horns. Dagur grunted at the sudden load but adjusted in no time, repositioning his hands so that he was holding H50 bridal style. The albino girl groaned and blew on the palms of her hands. But when she realized where she had landed, her face became the color of a pomogranate. With a startled whimper, she scrambled out of Dagur's arms and hugged herself, her tail swishing from left to right.

"H50." Hiccup walked towards the mutant and placed a hand on her muscular shoulder. "You okay?"

H50 nodded, a tiny smile gracing her lips. Then, she began to blink rapidly, her brow creasing. Hiccup and Dagur shared a confused look as H50 opened her mouth, making gurgled sounds. After a moment's struggle, she managed to speak.  
Well, sort of.

"_Thhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaannnnnnk_." She took a deep breath. "_Yoooooooouuuuuuu._"

Even though the words were far from threatening, they frightened both boys. H50's voice didn't sound human at all: it sounded deep and guttural, with an eerie undertone one would expect a ghost to emit.

Dagur whistled, looking delighted at the mutant's attempt of speech. Hiccup, however, was horrified and concerned at the same time.

"What happened to you?" He asked, now certain that the girl could understand every word. "Why can't you talk?"

H50's ears drooped like a dog's as she made a pained whimper in the back of her throat. After a moment's hesitation, she lifted her head, exposing her neck to Dagur and Hiccup.

There, visible under the wan moonlight, was deep horizontal scar the color of salmon. Even in the lack of light, the stitch marks were apparent.

Hiccup's eyes widened. "Someone cut out your vocal cords?" He whispered, his hand flying to his own throat.

H50 nodded, her eyes filmed over with the dark memory. Then, she shrugged, as if to say, _'Well, I'm over it.'_

"Look at us!" Dagur exclaimed, suddenly gay with excitement. He pointed at Hiccup, "You, this little runt of a..." Unable to finish that description, he said, "Well, you know what you are."  
He pointed at H50. "An albino mutant..." H50's flushed face didn't improve.  
"And me!" Dagur raised his arms, "Dagur the Deranged!" He clamped a hand on each of his companions' shoulders. "Who would've ever thought that we'd make such a formidable team?"

Forgetting her discomfort, H50 grinned at the Berserker, revealing a crescent moon of pointed teeth.

Hiccup, however, wasn't so keen. "Er, not me. That's for sure."

Dagur nodded, still blinded by his mirth. "Let's move out." He said, placing an arm (holding the crossbow) behind Hiccup and leading him out of the camp. The chief's excitement must have been contagious, for H50 began to jump up and down on her backwards legs and clapping her hands, eager animal-like chatters escaping her with every step. She looked so much like a kid during Snoggletog that Hiccup completely forgot that she was only part human.

As for Dagur, he eyed H50 curiously. Before he had a chance to stop it, a memory floated in front of his mind's eye like a ghost.

A ghost from the past.

* * *

_The air was heavy with the sweet scent of cinammon-buns and cakes. Decorations usually reserved for Snoggletog were up, and warm sunlight streamed in through the windows, filling the room with a near-blinding luminescence. The room was filled with people, mostly adults with the occasional child. Even though it was loud, it was the kind of blaring that came in big families._

_It perfectly matched the mood, for it was a very special occasion indeed._

_It was the fifth birthday of the future chief of the Berserker chief._

_A bony woman rushed into the room, her arms loaded with wrapped gifts and a huge smile on her freckled face._

_"Happy birthday, Dagur!" She announced, her voice as warm as the spring breeze. The guests cheered, many raising their fists in the air._

_Stoick the Vast nodded at the cheering youngster, who was jumping up and down like a lunatic._  
_Next to him, a little girl with long white hair was cheering as well, clapping her hands hard enough to blister them. Despite the thick bandages on her arms and middle, she was grinning like a clown. She hugged Dagur, ignorant of his suddenly reddening face. "Happy birthday, D!"_

_Dagur stood there before (gently) pushing her away. Then he huffed with his hands on his hips,like he was already an adult and beyond such things. "Hey, I'm a man! Men don't hug!"_

_Oswald rolled his eyes at his son before smiling at his wife. "Sweetheart, why don't you give Dagur your gift first?"_

_"Alright." Val nodded before handing her son a parcel. Wasting no time with thanks, Dagur tore the paper away like a wild animal. The white-haired girl watched with huge crimson eyes as her friend pulled out his present. It was..._

_...A helmet, made from polished iron and two long horn piercing the air._

_Dagur shrieked with laughter before plopping it on his head, temporarily taming his wild hair. "I love it, Mama! I could be Alvin the Treacherous!"_

_Val chuckled uncomfortably as she adjusted Dagur's helmet. "I certainly hope not."_

_Stoick shook his head, giving his friend a disapproving glare. "You told your son about Alvin? Aren't you worried about scaring him?"_

_"I didn't tell him." Oswald retorted calmly. "He overheard me talking with Val." He caught the albino girl eyeing him and winked at her. "He and his little friend."_

_"Hey," Dagur suddenly said, "When's Lena's birthday?"_

_It was like he'd blown out the candles behind his friend's eyes. Her smile slipped off her face, and she suddenly stared at her bare feet, which were clad in knee-high boots despite the hot weather. "Don't got one." She answered quietly, her eyes burning._

_While many of the guests had begun to munch down on the treats Val had cooked, Stoick, Oswald, and Val all shared a saddened look. This wasn't right. Every child should be able to celebrate their birthday. It was one of the many special events of childhood that lose their magic as time wears on._

_Tucking some auburn hair behind her ear, Val knelt down in front of Lena and said, "Even if you don't have a birthday, Lena..." She cupped the girl's chin, making her look up. "I'll make you a helmet anyway."_

_Lena's crimson eyes widened. She stared at the woman who was the closest thing to a mother she'd ever had. Then, slowly, the shock melted away to pure, utter joy._

_"Yeaaaaaah!" She cheered, jumping into Val's arms, "Helmet! Helmet!"_

_Val chuckled and held the girl close, rocking her from left to right. Dagur watched the entire scene, wondering how anyone could not know when they were born._

* * *

Dagur was still lost in thought as he, Hiccup, and H50 treaded through the woods. But when Hiccup spoke to H50, he snapped back to reality.

"Hey, H50, you wanna rest? You look a little tired." Hiccup said, sounding genuinely concerned for the mutant's well-being.

Dagur turned to Hiccup. "Don't call her that."

H50 tilted her head, an unreadable expression on her pale face. Hiccup arched a brow. "What? Then..." He shrugged. "What d'you wanna call her?"

"Lena."

H50 perked up, her tail wagging like a dog's. Dagur took notice of this and grinned crookedly. "Her name's Lena."


	11. Chapter 10: Instinct

Chapter 10: Instinct  


'Altruism' is a term that describes a range of attitudes in animals that may be to their disadvantage but mostly benefit others. In the study of ecology (study of behavior), some animals do indeed act in ways that lessen their chances of survival but increase the chances of those around them. It is at first a puzzling comportment because according to Darwin's theory on natural selection, only the strongest survive while the weak, sickly, or old are picked off, either by predators or by one of their own. That is why it is considered peculiar that animals have the capability (and the choice) to help each other.

For example, dogs often adopt orphaned squirrels, cats and ducks. Wild dogs and wolves bring back meat to pack members that didn't participate in the hunt. Lemurs of all ages and both genders will take care of infants in the group, even if they are not related by blood.

Thus, it is not too much of a stretch to assume that dragons will do the same thing for each other...and humans who have helped them in return.

* * *

Completely unaware of the true danger their riders were in, the four dragons (five, if one counted Barf and Belch as two separate dragons) slept soundly in the warm dry cave. Toothless hung upside down like a great bat, his wings wrapped around his body like fleshy blankets. Hookfang lay on the cave floor like a huge scaly rug, his forked tongue hanging out of his mouth. Meatlug was curled up into a tight ball next to the campfire. Barf and Belch snoozed in the far corner of the cave, their long green necks intertwined.

Tuffnut Thorston was sitting beside the cave's entrace, snoring softly. "Give it _back_, it's my blanket..." He murmured before giving one great snore, his eyelids fluttering.

All was silent, almost peaceful...until an ungodly roar made Toothless's eyes snap open. He watched a stray Monstrous Nightmare fly past the cave's entrance, spouting fire and its huge wings beating the air.

The side of its neck was black, but Toothless barely noticed.

With a snarl, he jumped down, his padded feet barely making a sound on the stony floor. All the other dragons awoke, peering sleepily at their unofficial leader. Toothless approached the cave's entrance and stared at the Monstrous Nightmare. It gave a sudden shriek of pain as it collapsed several meters from the cave. It lay in the dust, still as a statue.

A cold, bony hand grabbed Toothless's heart and refused to let go. There weren't many dragons that could take down a Monstrous Nightmare, not without getting some serious injuries. Whatever had taken down this dragon must have been a very worthy opponent.

And it was on the same island as Hiccup and the others.

Toothless turned to the other dragons and snorted. They all understood and flapped their wings, following Toothless out of the cave and into the jungle.

Tuffnut remained asleep...until a small rock collapsed in front of him. Making a noise that sounded like a groan and a gasp, the blonde Viking woke up. He rose and brushed himself off. "What a great dream...what?" He cut himself off when he realized he'd been speaking to no one in particular.

The dragons were gone.

"Oh, really? That's how you're gonna do me?" Tuffnut glared at the entrance, just in time to hear a distant roar. "I don't think so." Grabbing a lantern. he ran outside and took a quick gander of his surroundings. "Oh, it's on, dragons. It is _so_ on."

With that, he held the beaming lantern in front of him and raced into the jungle. He was entirely nescient to the human-dragon monster sitting in one of the trees, eyeing him with glowing eyes.

* * *

Hiccup, Dagur, and Lena (formerly known as 'H50'), contined to stride through the woods. Dagur remained behind the albino mutant, crossbow tightly clasped in his hands. Lena led the way, walking on all fours and with her stinger at the ready.

"Curious weapon." Hiccup noted, observing the thorn-like stinger sticking out of his new friend's tail. "Looks like some kind of self-defence mechanism." He scratched his head thoughtfully, "Weird, though. I've never seen a dragon with something like that."

Lena cocked her head at Hiccup's words before examining her stinger with fresh interest. Then, locking her eyes with the boy's, she impaled the stinger in the ground, right next to a weed. Before Dagur and Hiccup's amazed eyes, the weed turned brown, shriveled, and collapsed lifelessly on the dirt.

"Woah." Dagur adjusted his helmet so he could get a better look. As Lena extracted the tip of her tail from the earth, Dagur placed a hand on the top of her head. "Lena, you are such a freak! I love it!" He threw back his head and cackled. Lena, who'd seemed embarressed at first, turned bright red and grinned sheepishly at the Berserker. She made a gurgle of delight before continuing to lead the way, a spring in her step.

Hiccup watched the two fondly as he followed. They clearly had some sort of history together, that much was clear. If they didn't, Dagur wouldn't have known Lena's name. And the way Lena looked at the Berserker...there was something in those big red eyes. Like adoration, familiarity...and something else Hiccup couldn't quite place.

If only things had been different, if only Dagur hadn't been hunting Toothless.

Lena suddenly stiffened and turned to the two boys. She placed a clawed index finger to her lips, urging them to be quiet. Then, she shuddered and hunched over, her forehead brushing the ground. Hiccup reached out to her, concerned that she was hurt. Instead, two vast wings resembling a Skrill's sprouted out of her back, tearing twin holes in her black catsuit. Hiccup recoiled as he watched tiny lightning bolts, bright as stars, emerged from the leathery wings. Without looking back at her two companions, Lena soared into the sky and ducked into the trees.

Dagur watched her go, his face as white as the full moon hovering above them.

"Uh...D-Dagur?" Hiccup asked "You okay?"

"Those wings..." Dagur turned and stared at Hiccup with forest-green eyes so similar to his own. "That thing that sunk my ship had wings just like 'em."

Hiccup's breath hitched in his throat. He stared at Dagur, then at the crowd of trees Lena had disappeared in.

"But, Dagur, you can't think that-"

"I don't know what to think!" Dagur suddenly shouted, spinning around to face Hiccup. "I've seen a lot of fucked-up shit, but I've NEVER seen stuff like this! How do I know Lena's not the one who-"

"But she can't be!" Hiccup protested.

"How the fuck do you know?!" Dagur snapped as he stepped forward, his body blocking out the moonlight. "You've only known her for a few hours, brother! How do you know what she's like?! She's only _half_ human, never forget that!"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Hiccup yelled before taking a deep, calming breath. Raking both hands through his auburn hair, he began in a calmer voice. "Dagur, I get what you're saying. But what makes more sense: that Lena somehow transformed into a monster, took down your armada, and changed back, or that she just happens to have wings like the thing that did?"

Dagur opened his jaw, then clamped it shut. Hiccup had a point there. Not knowing what else to say, the Berserker chief began to study his boots. He thought back on the unexpected flashback; even though he couldn't explain where it had come from, it still made him feel guilty for thinking badly of Lena.

The two boys resumed talking, this time in more civil tones. They discussed the possibilities of Lena and the monster having the same creator, or being part of some new, freakish species.

But they weren't alone. Their words were heard by a certain muscular, dark-haired boy. Snotlout Jorgensen frowned as he edged closer towards the sound. He recognized one of the voices in the blink of an eye: it was his cousin Hiccup, the runt of the litter. Well, at least that's how Snotlout _used_ to see his uncle's son. Now, he saw Hiccup as a leader, even though the Jorgenson boy would've rather soaked himself in oil and lit a torch than admit it.

But what about the other voice? It sounded familiar, somehow. It was without a doubt a male's voice, maybe four or five years older than Hiccup or Snotlout.  
But who...?

Snotlout crept towards the edge of the bushes, listening to Hiccup and the unknown man dicuss something. He was so absorbed in what he was hearing, he didn't realize that a long, hairless tail the color of milk curled out from the tree branches. From the tip of the tail, a poisonous thorn emerged.

"How'd you know her name was 'Lena' anyway?" Hiccup suddenly asked. Dagur could practically see the gears in his head spinning at full speed. But as much as he wanted to answer, the Berserker chief was as clueless as his 'brother'. He shrugged, making his metal shoulder pads clink. "I don't know." He answered honestly, "I just...I dunno, remembered something."

A chorus of screams cut off the discussion before it could go any further. Both heads turned to see Snotlout emerging from the bushes, with Lena at his heels. The boy fell on his back while the albino girl crashed on top of him, gripping his shoulders with a steely hold. Her stinger hovered over Snotlout's terrified face, the needle-like tip aimed at his throat.

Dagur's eyebrows disappeared in his helmet, and an amazed smile appeared on his face.

His 'brother', however, wasn't so pleased.

"NO!" The dragon trainer shouted, pointing at the albino mutant. "Go to your place."

Lena looked up at him, incredulous that he would ask such a thing.

"I said, _go to your place!_" Hiccup repeated, a bit more bite in his voice. With reluctance, Lena rose to her feet, her stinger sinking back into her tail. Snotlout lay on the ground, staring at the creature that'd been mere seconds away from killing him. Lena backed away and crouched down, her back to the boys. Her tail coiled around her dragon-like feet. She hissed and croaked at the intruder, making it painfully clear that she would've stabbed him if it hadn't been for Hiccup.

Snotlout scrambled to his feet, his gray eyes impossibly large as he beholded the monster. He took several steps back, trying to make as much distance between him and that thing as possible. Hiccup approached his cousin, an explanation at the ready, but Snotlout was already running back into the woods.

Silence hung over the small group like a fog for a few minutes. Then, Dagur snorted with laughter and said, "I withdraw my former cattiness. That was _awesome_." Shouldering his crossbow, he walked towards Lena, kneeled down, and tapped her shoulder. She looked over her shoulder and noticed the warmth swimming in those green orbs. Blushing lightly, she loosened from her tense pose.

"'Awesome'? Is that was you said?" Hiccup asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Dagur answered as though it were obvious. He straightened and helped the mutant to her feet. "Anyone who can take down Snot-hat is cool in my book. I mean," Suddenly animated, he waved his hands, "She was like, bam! Wham! And..." He attempted to immitate Lena's noises and failed. Lena blinked before giggling, hiding her grin with her four-fingered claws.

Lena, whose Skrill-like wings had retracted into her back, finally stopped laughing and eyed Hiccup curiously. She tilted her head, a worried expression on her pale face. He could almost see the question in her red-rimmed eyes: _'Did I do something wrong?'_

Slowly, the tension left Hiccup's shoulders. He could see that Lena had reacted out of protectiveness, not malevolence. How could she have known that Snotlout was a friend? She'd seen a stranger approach her friends and had done what she'd thought was best. While it wasn't the best way to react, Hiccup could understand why Lena had reacted the way she had.

He shook his head once and gave her a crooked smile to show that they were alright. Lena sighed in relief. Then, Hiccup glanced back at where Snotlout had disappeared from. "Look, guys...I gotta talk to my cousin." He said finally, already following the larger boy's footsteps. Dagur nodded, "Okay. I'll give ya ten minutes. Then, we're gonna keep hunting...brother."

Ugh. No matter how many times Dagur would use that word, it would never fail to creep Hiccup out. With a nervous nod, the Hooligan heir disappeared in the bushes.

* * *

A few minutes later, Hiccup and Snotlout were sitting along the bank of a small stream, their boots off and their bare feet in the clear, cold water. Snotlout blankly stared at his cousin, who was obviously on pins and needles.

"Look, please play along. We can't let Dagur know about our dragons." Hiccup stated, "He'll try to...take 'em home and mount them on his wall!"

"Wait, you mean..." Snotlout blanched before nodding. "Okay, I will. But, uh..." He jerked his head from the way he'd come. "What about that monster?"

"She's not a monster." Hiccup stated, recalling the way Lena had protected him and Dagur from the Monstrous Nightmare. "I've seen it. She's just..." He soughed and rolled his scrawny shoulders. "I don't know _what_ she is, Snotlout. But she didn't know you were a friend. It won't happen again."

Snotlout stared at Hiccup for several long moments, looking like he'd never laid eyes on his cousin before. "Are you serious?" He asked, "You're trusting _that?_ How do you know she's not gonna snap and kill us all?"

Hiccup sighed. "I don't. But it's a risk we're gonna have to take."

Snotlout shook his head, already hating the idea. "I don't really have a choice but...fine. I'll play along." He glared at Hiccup to show that he meant business. "But if that thing tries anything funny..."

He reached into his belt and pulled out a dagger.


	12. Chapter 11: Predator

Chapter 11: Predator  


While the group 'welcomed' Snotlout to their little hunting expedition (Dagur by sharpening his axe, Lena by snarling), Tuffnut Thorston was searching for the dragons he'd lost track of.

Not that he knew where to start. By the looks of it, this island was even larger than Berk and couldn't have been less familiar. Many people would've panicked and begun to run around frantically like headless chickens. But not the blonde-haired Viking: he was too thick-skulled to truly understand the severity of his position.

Lantern in hand, the teenage Viking treaded down the beach, the white sand crunching softly under his worn boots. His eyes - gray instead of his sister's blue - searched the area in front of him trying to make sense of the tenebrous shapes. The dragons had to be around here somewhere, right? They couldn't have gone far...except that most of them could fly and Toothless could outrun any man.

If one put into consideration that dragons were incredibly adaptable to their surroundings and had sense that bettered humans' tenfold, he/she would see that Tuffnut's chances of finding the beasts were virtually zero.

But...wait. There was something in the sand. Tuffnut lowered his lantern to get a better view.

Aha! There, embedded in the sand, was a sight he'd seen countless times around his house, especially on one of the island's many rainy days.

Zippleback tracks.

Tuffnut got down on one knee and traced one lightly, with a single fingertip. It was still fresh, so Barf and Belch couldn't have gone far from here. It was a good thing, too: if he could at least find his pet and ride it, he could locate the other dragons, drag them back to the cave by their tails, and act like nothing had happened.

Looking up, Tuffnut decided that he was a better tracker than everyone - himself included - had initially thought. He could see a Zippleback lying down behind a boulder, its back to him. Its scaly green body and twin tails were a dead giveaway. Tuffnut smirked before closing the distance between him and his pet. Then, with a light kick, he exclaimed, "Gotcha!"

As the body rustled, the Viking continued, "Now, back to the cave - WHAAAAT?!" He stepped away from his gruesome discovery, almost tripping over himself in the process.

Whatever this thing was, it wasn't Barf and Belch. Not by a long shot.

While its body was identical to a Hideous Zippleback's, its faces were human-like. Greasy tendrils of dark brown hair tumbled down the two heads, nearly reaching the point where the long necks met. The faces were extremely similar, like Ruffnut and Tuffnut, but the startled Viking could still tell the male from the female.

"I thought, uh...thought you were someone else." With that, Tuffnut spun on his heel and ran as quickly as his legs could carry him. The monster followed him, roaring angrily. Tuffnut glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear. One head - the female - let loose enough green gas to knock out a pack of wolves. The other - the male - opened its jaws a fraction and unleashed a white-yellow spark no larger than a grain of wheat.

A fiery explosion flared up behind Tuffnut, nearly setting his long hair on fire. Tuffnut yelped and picked up the pace, his heart and legs pumping in unison. "Look - it's a simple misunderstanding!" He tried being reasonable, but he may as well have spoken Chinese.

Another explosion made him nearly lose his balance. As cold sweat formed in patches all over his body, the Viking scrutinized the area for something - anything - that could get him out of this mess.

Aha! There was a tree just a couple of meters away. There was no guarentee that it would work, but Tuffnut had a hunch. It happened to Barf and Belch so often it risked becoming a running gag.

With one last grunt, he zoomed past the tree. The two-headed mutant stretched their necks to their limits, trying to bite him. In their bloodthirsty haste, they didn't realize that they'd stretched their necks on opposite ends of the tree.

Boom! The mutant collapsed, both heads hitting the ground like dead birds.

"Hah!" Tuffnut laughed, suddenly feeling smug. Wiping the sweat from his temple, he held his hips as he strolled in front of his narrowly-defeated foe. "Dragon trainer: 1. Freaky Zippleback thing: 0."

The taunt was enough for the mutant to shake off its failure. With united growls, the two heads glared daggers at the blonde Viking, whose smile slipped off his face like melted snow. With a snort, the mutant punched the tree's bark with one of its front legs (which had human-like hands). The entire tree creaked and groaned before crashing on its side like a domino.

Tuffnut's confidence went down the drain. With a yell, he turned around and prepared to run, but it was too late: the mutant Zippleback spread its wings and took the skies. As it hovered over the sky, it screeched like a banshee as its hands reached for the blonde Viking.

Like an eagle scoops up an unsuspecting mouse, the Zippleback abnormality snatched Tuffnut and carried him higher and higher into the air. The wind coursing through its leathery wings, the monster carried their prey to the place it knew he couldn't escape from.

The Master's volcano.

* * *

Soft scaly feet barely made a sound as they landed on rock. Thinly outlined by the moon's waxen light, Toothless stepped forward, jade eyes taking in the stony horizon. Then, he closed his eyes and sniffed, trying to pick up Hiccup's scent.

Ah, there it was! Leather, like the straps that kept him on Toothless whenever they soared through the clouds. Fish, from all the times he'd hand-fed Toothless and, on occasion, dragons too sick to eat on their own.

Where was it coming from, though? Toothless sniffed again, deeper this time. It was coming from...north.

With a soft growl, Toothless bolted towards the smell's source, the other dragons in close persuit.

* * *

Fishlegs Ingerman was not made for the outdoors. One look told you that.

Besides the fact that he was 'husky', as his mother described it, he was like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The grip on his lantern was strong enough to shatter bones, he was holding a small hammer to his chest like a priest would with a Bible, and the facial expression he wore screamed, _'Please get me out of here'_.

Which was precisely how the poor boy felt. He didn't know what was worse: being in a strange island, or being in a strange island _at night_.

A shrieking shadow flew past him, making him yelp and take several steps back. Trying to fight the fresh wave of fear overcoming him, the chubby Viking continued his march towards the cave. He'd drawn out a map in the sand hours earlier, and one of the few advantages he had was photographic memory. All he had to do was close his eyes and he saw the layout of the island scribbled in the wet sand.

He wasn't too far. Just a few more miles and he'd be at the cave.

And away from those **_eyes_**.

Even though the air was warm, goose-bumps traced Fishlegs' skin. He shivered and huddled within himself, trying to block out the mental picture.  
But of course, it was too late. He was already revisiting the sight of those huge, round eyes with the blood-red irises, staring at him with mysterious intent. The spine-tingling image may as well have been ingrained in his skull.

Fishlegs could only remember another pair of eyes that made him feel such indescribable, despairing fear. They belonged to a creature that was still roaming the skies but would hopefully never return to Berk.

The Screaming Death.

Fishlegs shook his head, nearly making his helmet slip off his untidy straw-colored hair. No. No more frightening thoughts. If he kept walking down this path, he'd surely lose whatever courage he'd gathered and run back to the beach.

His friends would never let him hear the end of it. And if they didn't, his conscious wouldn't.

Distant screams made him spin around, lantern raised high. Those were human shouts, of that much he was who...?

His back lightly touched another's.

Simultaneously, as if they'd rehearsed it, Fishlegs and Snotlout spun around and took turns screaming at each other like a pair of school-girls.

"Fishlegs!" Said boy glanced sideways to see Hiccup approaching him and Snotlout, perfectly fine and with a lantern in his fist. Relief wrapped around Fishlegs like a warm blanket. But when Fishlegs looked beyond his friend and at the two people following Hiccup, the blanket was torn away and left him exposed to the cold grip of fear.

One was...he didn't know _what_ he was looking at.

It was walking on all fours, so it was difficult to get a clear view. But Fishlegs_ did_ see that this thing resembled a girl, sort of, with a muscular (but not very feminine) build made more obvious thanks to the skin-tight black suit it was wearing. It had straight hair the color of pearls; it cascaded over its shoulders and spilled into patterns on the dark earth.  
But that's where the humanity ended.  
Even from this distance, Fishlegs could see the Monstrous Nightmare horns sticking out of her temples, the tips as sharp as the devil's tongue. Her claws glinted with eerie promise of agony, and her legs bent backwards like a bird's. She had a long, skinny tail mirroring a rat's with a stinger at the end of it.

Hiccup's approach tore Fishlegs from the peculiar creature, which the young scholar was grateful for.

"W-would ya look? It's Dagur!" Hiccup announced with false cheer, "Who is also out hunting dragons, just like us."

_What...?_

"Yes!" Snotlout wrapped a beefy arm around each boy, "We are dragon hunters, out hunting dragons!"

Lena tilted her head, an inquistive coo escaping her lips.

"Hiccup." Dagur began, making all three boys turn in his direction. "Your definition of 'alone' and mine are very different." A wicked smile appeared on his dirt-smeared face as he leaned forward. "But perhaps, this one..." He slapped a hand on Fishlegs' cheek, "...can help us-"

"Hunt dragons!" Snotlout cut him off, wrapping his arms around his friends' shoulders a second time. "'Cuz that's what we are doing: hunting!"

"Dragons." Hiccup added, shooting Fishlegs a meaningful expression.

Ah, so that's what was going on. Fishlegs nodded, "Okay, got it." Forcing a civil smile on his plump face, he turned to the white-haired girl. "And who's this?" He asked, his hands on his slightly-bent knees.

Lena straightened at the new face, a curious look on her white face. But when their eyes met, Fishlegs nearly gasped out loud.

Lena's large eyes, rimmed with bright red circles, were the like poppies: bright, vibrant red with pitch-black pupils.

Just like the eyes from before.

Unaware of the fear settling in Fishlegs' bones, Dagur leaned down and spoke in a softer voice, "Don'tcha wanna meet your new friend, Lena?"

Lena relaxed at the sound of Dagur's voice, but when Fishlegs (reluctantly) held out his fleshy hand, the girl suddenly whimpered and backed away. Fishlegs frowned and looked at his hand, half-expecting some horrible skin disease to appear.

Ah, no. There was a small cut on his palm, a few drops of blood seeping out. He must've accidentally scratched himself on Meatlug, or when he'd pushed aside a shrub during this unwanted nighttime hike.

It wasn't anything serious. So why was 'Lena' acting like this?

Lena made a jerky step back, her eyes focused on the cut. Hiccup was at her side a second later, a hand on her back. He felt the Skrill wings rippling under the skin like snakes, but he paid them no heed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"What is it?" Dagur asked as he copied Hiccup's action, sounding genuinely concerned.

With another series of startled chatters, Lena slipped from under the boys' hands and was gone a heartbeat later. The only proof that she'd been there at all were four-fingered prints in the soft mud.

A bush twenty meters away rustled loudly as a body rushed past it.

Lena's yowls echoed through the night.

Dagur stood there, his arm still poised where his hand had pressed on Lena's back. Hiccup was no better, his face the definition of the word 'confused'. Snotlout and Fishlegs stared after the girl with wide eyes. When it finally sunk in, Dagur broke the spell and screamed, "LENA!"

* * *

Lena raced as quickly as her legs and arms could carry her, tripping over roots and ignoring the way the low-hanging branches pierced her skin. She ran aimlessly, not caring where she ended up just as long as it was away from that boy.

And the blood from his cut.

Normally, Lena could handle blood. None of the dragon components in her DNA had predatory characteristics, and none of them ate meat except for the 1% Screaming Death. Normally, she kept that distant urge to consume flesh at bay; instead, she chose fruit, vegetables, and fish as alternatives.

But not tonight, not right now. As Lena darted through the forest, she glanced down at the glowing numbers on her collar.

1:30:22.

She had less than two hours before she needed another injection. If she waited until the last minute, the beast would take over and Lena would be incapable of stopping it. Once she became...became that, she didn't even remember who she was anymore. She'd killed some of her mutant friends because she hadn't kept track of time.

But it couldn't happen this time. Not with Hiccup, not with Dagur.

Especially not with Dagur.

No, she needed something - anything - that could sate her hunger for meat, at least for now.

A roar split the air from the tree to her left.

Lena soughed, hanging her head. Then, very regretfully, she spread her wings and flew in a straight line upward.

* * *

"Lena!"

"Lena!"

The four boys called out the girl's name over and over, trying in vain to follow her footsteps. With the odd trail of footprints and occasional broken twigs, they were able to more or less follow her.  
But none of them were exactly calm.

"Can somebody tell me what that thing is?!" Fishlegs demanded, his voice shaking like a leaf.

"I'll tell you what it is." Snotlout replied with a snort, "It's a carnival reject, that's what it is!"

"Hold your tongue or I'll cut it out!" Dagur snarled, turning around and sending Snotlout a glare that could freeze Hell over. The lantern he was holding made the shadows dance on his face, making his sneer much more sinister. Snotlout swallowed loudly as Dagur snorted and continued to walk forward. "Where the hell can she be?" He muttered to himself.

"Don't worry, okay? She's not gonna leave us." Hiccup replied, holding his lantern out to illuminate the path ahead.  
"News flash, Hic." Dagur leaned forward and hissed in Hiccup's ear. "She just _did_."

"Okay, y'know what? She's not gonna go far." Hiccup answered, looking around for any sign of the albino hybrid.

A sudden yelp made all four boys' heads turn. "Lena?" Dagur asked in that strange, almost caring voice. Holding out the lantern, he marched towards the noise, stepping over gnarly roots. Hiccup followed suit, continuing to call out the girl's name.

Fishlegs shook his head, even though he didn't even try to stay behind. "I'm not sure if I like this."

"Yeah, well, too late." Snotlout answered as he walked past him, a smirk on his face. Fishlegs groaned and followed the three other boys.

"Lena?"

A loud slurping noise brought Dagur closer to its source. He was standing behind a large tree, thick as a barrel. He heard familiar coos and chirps coming from the other side of the tree, followed by odd slurping and ripping sounds. He and Hiccup edged closer to see Lena crouched over the soil, her back to them. Her tail flicked from side to side as she hunched over something, her arms seemingly holding a thing close.

"Lena?" Dagur tried, only half-hoping she'd answer.

This time, he got a reply.

Hesitantly, Lena turned around, a chunk of scaly green meat hanging from her lips. Tears streaked her face, and her eyes were already puffy and red. Her entire mouth and chin was dripping in bright red blood, and a Terrible Terror's dismembered, mangled corpse lay in her claws.

"Oh, Lena." Hiccup managed, his heart rate picking up.

"Oh Thor Almighty..." A shaky voice said behind him. Dagur and Hiccup turned around to see Snotlout and Fishlegs standing right behind them, lanterns held over their heads. Snotlout looked ready to vomit while Fishlegs was on the verge of fainting.

They both stood there like statues, staring at Lena and seeing the monster they'd made her out to be.

They failed to see how Lena was hating every second of it.


	13. Chapter 12: Nighttime Hunt

Chapter 12: Nighttime Hunt  


Tuffnut grunted as he fell face-first on the ground. The impact ignited his nerves and bruised his skin; even though he normally loved the feeling of pain - the way it made him feel alive - he didn't like this sort of anguish. It wasn't the 'playing around' type he always had with his sister; it was more along the lines of 'you're in trouble'.

Spitting out a mouthful of bitter ash and dust, the blonde Viking pushed himself up to get a gander of his surroundings. The area was made entirely of black volcanic rock, with several hand-made lanterns nailed to the uneven walls. They hung on the walls like giant fireflies, providing warmth and illumination for all they were worth. It was a small comfort, but it vanished the second Tuffnut eyeballed the thing that had brought him here.

The Zippleback mutant was even scarier in the light, where every gruesome detail was displayed. While most of its body was the color of snot dotted with brown specks, it wasn't scaly; it had pores and patterns of hair just like his. Also, the creature had human hands and feet rather than dragon claws.

The monster lowered both heads, returning Tuffnut's bug-eyed stare. These two pairs of eyes, framed by a greasy curtain of dark hair, were undeniably similar to his. Tuffnut found it hard to keep looking. But he did, swallowing hard enough to make his throat sore. Doing what he always did, he concealed his fear with humor. "Uh...just so you know," He said, trying to keep his voice even, "I _never_ lose a staring contest."

With that, he widened his eyes and kept them glued to his captors'. The 'game' went on for several moments, until one of the Zippleback hybrid heads grew bored and snorted in Tuffnut's face. "Ha!" The blonde Viking cheered, "I win!"

"Oh?" A new voice echoed through the room, making Tuffnut spin around. "I see our new friend's got a lion heart beating in that fragile ribcage of his."

The Zippleback mutant hissed and whimpered like a helpless animal. Eyes wide with terror, it began to walk backwards, as far away from the voice as it could. "What the...?" Tuffnut turned around to see something he hadn't noticed earlier: a tent large enough to house half of Berk was standing several meters away from him. A man stepped out of it, wiping his hands on a bloody rag.

Tuffnut immediately got a bad vibe rolling off the stranger, strong as like tsunami waves.

This man was rather old, even older than Mildew had been. Just like Mildew, this man was nothing but skin and bones, though he wasn't utilizing a walking stick as the former Hooligan had. His head resembled an egg: round, shiny, and not a hair in sight. There were several cuts that'd been stitched closed ages ago; now, the scars were even paler than the rest of his skin.

The man eyed Tuffnut from head to toe, staring at him as though he were a fascinating specimen of insect. That is, something to be studied, but at a safe distance. The man knelt down, keeping his pale eyes on Tuffnut's face. Those eyes had a hypnotic power to them: even if every muscle in his body screamed to run, Tuffnut couldn't move a centimeter. He could only stare back, never blinking and barely breathing.

The man abruptly looked up at the Zippleback mutant. "H25-D75, where did you find this human?"

"On the beach, Master." One of the creature's heads replied in a quiet, startled voice. In that moment, Tuffnut felt sort of sorry for the monster that had kidnapped him. After a second's hesitation, the first head added, "There are others on this island. Lena is with them."

"Lena?" The Master rose, "Are you certain?"

"Yes." Both the monster's heads - H25-D75 - nodded at the same time. "We've spoken to others. They all said Lena was with four boys near the mountains."

"Is she?" The Master purred softly, stroking his chin. "Maybe she decided to have a little snack. If I recall correctly, the effects of the serum should start wearing off."

Tuffnut's face went white. "What? Who's Lena? What's going on here?"

Suddenly losing interest in the boy, the Master flicked his wrist as if tossing rubbish. "Lock him in a cage. I'll proceed with the analysis later."

The Zippleback mutant didn't dare disobey. It grabbed Tuffnut by the long hair, making him yell in protest. It waddled into the tent and didn't stop moving until it reached the very end. That area was dominated by dozens of cages of every shape, size, and color. In two or three was either an unfamiliar Viking or a dragon, completely knocked-out.

"What in the name of Thor...?" Tuffnut asked no one in particular.

"Welcome to your new home." The heads simultaneously growled before jamming a syringe in the young Viking's neck. Tuffnut shrieked and fought like a demon, but he went limp as sleepiness overtook him. With a snort of satisfaction, the monster opened one of the larger, empty cages and tossed an unconscious Tuffnut inside like a dirty piece of laundry. The cage door was closed and padlocked a moment later.

"H25-D75!"

The creature spun around and scurried back to its creator, terrified of what would happen if it disobeyed. It knelt at the Master's feet, growling humbly. "Yes, Master?"

The Master jerked his chin at the volcano's opening. "Find this little group. Do what you like with the boys, just don't kill them. We're running low on ingredients, so some spare organs, blood, and flesh is always welcome. But bring me Lena back unharmed. I find a single scar on her body that wasn't there before and I'll dissect you without the use of anesthesia."  
The Zippleback mutant shuddered before nodding once, showing that it recognized a threat when it heard one.

Anyone else would've thought that the Master was joking or offering empty words. But the creatures knew better. During the ten years that the Master's 'children' had been here, many had displeased him. If they'd messed up one time too many, the Master would dispose of them. Sometimes, if he was in a merciful mood, he'd put them to sleep and use their body parts for further research. The parts he had no use for were fed to the wild animals that lived on the island.

But if they so much as harmed Lena, theirs was a much more cruel sentence. Once, a hybrid had broken Lena's arm; as punishment, the Master had removed its organs while it'd been fully awake.

No one harmed Lena. That was the only true law on Dragon Island. The only one allowed to maim her...was the Master himself.

* * *

It was late, and everyone was tired, hungry, and in need of a bath. That was why even Dagur, whose skull was thicker than a stone, decided to call it a night. It had been an extremely long day (and night) for the group, and they were all more than happy to hit the hay.

Especially Lena. She couldn't wait to fall asleep and pretend that her eating the Terrible Terror hadn't really happened.

Of course, the grisly display hadn't exactly impressed anyone, either. Snotlout and Fishlegs treated her like a ghost: they didn't look at her directly, speak to her, or touch her. Hiccup occasionally asked the albino mutant if she was alright, which she answered with a half-hearted gurgle. Dagur, however, was a pillar of rage. His face was stiff, his posture was rigid, and his hands were curled into bitter fists. He, too, refrained from having any contact with the mutant.

But his silence wounded Lena more than a knife would ever could. Several times, she telepathically reached out to him, but either it didn't work or he created mental gates to block her out.

Finally, the group reached a cave close to where the dragon riders had been meant to meet their pets. But that mission had clearly been thrown to the wind.

Silenced dominated the five people with an iron fist. Hiccup and Snotlout built a fire, placing flat stones on the ground to form a circle. Then, Snotlout tossed in some sticks while Hiccup rubbed two rocks together. A tiny spark flew from the stones, and a second later, the cave walls were painted saffron-yellow, pale orange, and gold. Hiccup let out a sigh of contentment as he held his hands over the fire, allowing its warmth to chase away the cold wind's fingers.

Meanwhile, Fishlegs gazed at the sky, trying to determine when dawn would break. He examined the moon's position before scrawling in his notebook with a charcoal pencil. By the end of his brief session, he concluded that it would be daybreak in about eight and a half hours.

God, it seemed like an eternity from now.

Dagur, finally having enough of the silent treatment, marched to the very end of the cave, where Lena was cowering. What Dagur didn't see was Lena glancing at the collar around her neck.

0:57:32.

She had less than an hour to get another injection. How was she going to get it? She didn't even know how to get to the Master's house from here!

She had to find some, and fast.

"Lena?" He asked, his voice as hard and sharp as his axe's blade. "Don't you ever, ever run away from me like that again. Do you understand?"

Lena didn't answer; the only proof that she was awake was the occasional whimper and the flicking of her tail.

"Do you understand?!" Dagur repeated, more heatedly this time. "Lena, look at me! That was _bad_. Bad Lena!"

That last part hit home. With a squirrel-like squeak, Lena raised her white eyebrows and looked over her shoulder. Her crimson eyes, still puffy and red, locked with Dagur's forest-green ones.

Once again, Dagur felt a familiar sensation tug at his heart-strings. He'd known this girl before, he was certain of it. Was that why she was able to wipe away his anger with a single, pleading look?

Dagur opened his jaw, then clamped it shut. He released the air from his lungs and tore his gaze away. Rubbing the back of his neck, he refused to say anything else.

Hiccup, however, had witnessed the bizarre scene and decided to interfere. Patting Snotlout on the back, the skinny Hooligan rose and was standing beside Dagur a moment later. In a soft voice, he said, "Don't worry, Lena. Nobody's angry at you."

_'Well, I kind of am.'_ Dagur thought with a scowl.

"We were just...we were really worried!" Hiccup concluded, allowing the mutant to see how much he actually cared. If anything, this stupefied the albino. With a noise that came from the back of her throat, Lena moved her head this way and that, a puzzled expression on her ashen face.

With that, the spell was broken. Snotlout cleared his throat and took a better look at the cave. "Well...it ain't my house, but it has a sorta...rocky charm." Plucking up his courage, he turned to the mutant and called, "You okay...Lena?" He figured, if Hiccup the Useless had the guts to talk to something like this, surely he would have double that amount.

That plan backfired, for Lena either didn't hear him or didn't care.

Something growled in the cave. Everyone immediately shifted to defensive mode: Dagur whipped out his axe, Snotlout prepared his fists, Hiccup held his shield in front of him, and Fishlegs hid behind the closest rock. But when the seconds ticked away and nothing attacked them, the boys relaxed a little. The growl came again, slightly louder this time.

Lena tilted her head before crawling on all fours towards Snotlout. The dark-haired boy let out a shriek that could wake the dead and pressed against the wall. "Not the face, not the face!" He shouted, covering his face with his hands.

Lena, entirely calm, giggled at the boy's fear and simply placed a four-fingered hand on Snotlout's belly.

Fishlegs, Dagur, and Hiccup shared a confused look...until the growling noise reappeared. This time, they all pinpointed its location: Snotlout's stomach.

Grinning, Lena croaked as she patted Snotlout's howling belly. "Oooh. Right, yeah. I'm hungry." Chuckling uncomfortably, he backed away from Lena. The albino made a chirp of confusion but remained where she was.

"Yeah, we should all have something to eat." Hiccup agreed. "Dagur, Snotlout and I will go hunt for some food. Fishlegs, you stay here with Lena."

"Um..." Fishlegs froze as Lena purred and curled around his feet, her tail wagging. "Shouldn't we all go?"

"You don't have a shield or a weapon." Hiccup pointed out.

"Yeah; besides, you'd slow us down." Snotlout added with a snarky laugh. Dagur, who'd traded his axe for his crossbrow, rolled his eyes in the back of his head. God, sometimes these boys acted like children. Didn't they know when to put aside their childish differences aside?

Hiccup elbowed his cousin in the ribs, "He didn't mean that."

"Yeah, I did." Snotlout argued.

"Bored again!" Dagur yelled, "Can we go already or are we gonna have a good ol' heart-to-heart around the campfire?"

Lena frowned, not comprehending the Berserker's sarcasm. Hiccup sighed; he had to keep the young chief happy, or things would go downhill. And fast.  
"Yeah, we can go." He tilted his head at his cousin. "C'mon, Snotlout."

Snotlout groaned at his current position (being ordered around by his runt of a cousin) but swallowed his pride and followed Hiccup and Dagur into the forest.

Moments later, Fishlegs and Lena were alone. The overweight Viking couldn't have imagined a scarier predicament: being stuck in the same place as a flesh-eating mutant. Fair enough, she didn't look like she would pounce on him and bite a hole in his neck: she actually appeared harmless. Especially now that she was curling up beside the fire and staring at it, mesmirized by the crackling flames.

But Fishlegs couldn't forget how she'd looked only an hour or so ago. She'd been hunched over the entrails of a Terror, her mouth and chin dripping with its blood.

How could Hiccup bring her along after that? Why couldn't he just leave her in the wild?

Ah, the scrawny Viking could be too soft-hearted for his own good at times. Coming from Fishlegs, that meant a lot.

But speaking of this...'Lena', as Hiccup and Dagur had called her, what were her dragon components? Fishlegs was a scholar at heart: whenever a chance to learn something new arose, he tackled it.

Keeping a safe distance from the albino girl, Fishlegs opened to a fresh page in his journal and began to observe her with a scientist's eye. Okay, as for her human element, Fishlegs guessed the percentage to be fifty or sixty. As he scrawled that down, he began to examine the girl's prominent dragon genes. He jotted down what dragon he believed had been used to 'make' her, as well as the percentage. It was only theoretical, but it still made him feel better, knowing what he was dealing with.  
Before long, Fishlegs' list looked like this:

_Monstrous Nightmare (horns and claws): 15%_

_Terrible Terror (noises used as a form of communication): 20%_

_Deadly Nadder (legs that bend backwards at the knees): 5%_

_Whispering Death (teeth that line inner mouth): 5%_

Here, the words were shaky, just like the frightened hand that had written them.

_Screaming Death (white skin and red eyes): 1 or more %_

An inquisitive coo made Fishlegs go still. His charcoal pencil pressed into the parchment, nearly snapping the tip in two. He didn't dare move as he felt the creature move in closer, peering over his large shoulder. She inched closer as her red-rimmed eyes took in the writing. As she breathed, Fishlegs fought the impulse to gag. Her breath was putrid with the smell of blood.

Blood from the Terrible Terror she'd slaughtered.

_'Oh, why in the name of Thor did Hiccup trust this thing?'_

As if she could hear his thoughts, Lena turned to look at Fishlegs, her crimson eyes scanning his face.

_'She's probably wondering what I taste like!'_

In a moment of irrational, purely instinctive fear, Fishlegs shrieked and dropped his book. Like a disabled crab, he crawled backwards, making as much distance between him and the confused girl as he could. Lena stared at him, wondering why he was acting like this, before shrugging her muscular shoulders and reverting her attention to Fishlegs' journal.

With a clawed hand, she grabbed it and held it up for closer inspection. Some unfinished dragon descriptions and notes spilled out like autumn leaves.

"Ah - hey!" Fishlegs spoke up, "D-don't touch that!"

Lena acted as though she hadn't heard, making curious chatters as she held the book sideways, then upside down.

The display was almost humorous, the way she was holding the journal and the stupefied expression on her bloodless face. It helped wash away some of Fishlegs' terror, and it lifted some of the fog in his mind. It suddenly occured to him...

"...You can't read, can you?"

Lena's head spun to him, eyes wide. Then, she tilted her head, like she didn't understand what he meant.

Good Thor, how much could she understand from his words?

"Uhh..." Fishlegs gestured to the book. "Can. You. Read?" He asked, making sure to pronounce each word clearly.

Lena, however, didn't look any less confused. She stared at the book in her hand, then at the chubby Viking, then back again.

That would be a no, then.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the duo was sitting just outside the cave, cross-legged and facing each other.

Fishlegs had written out the whole Viking alphabet in the dirt for Lena to see. Then, he'd asked her to write out certain letters, just to see if she understood.  
She had. This thing was smarter than Fishlegs had anticipated.

And nowhere as deadly. At first, the chubby Viking had kept staring at Lena's tail, expecting the stinger Snotlout had mentioned to pop out and stab him. But no; Lena had been as placid as a frozen lake.

Finally, when it seemed that Lena had a good understanding of the building blocks of communication, Fishlegs said, "Alright, we're gonna try something harder, okay? I want you to really concentrate."

Taking the stick he'd been using, he wrote out an 'F'. Then, an 'I'.

"F-I-S-H-L-E-G-S. Fishlegs." The boy read, placing a fleshy hand on his chest. Lena tilted her head, her crimson eyes drifting from the boy to the word.

"Show me 'Fishlegs'." He stated, jerking his chin at the word.

Hesitantly, Lena reached out and erased the boy's name. Then, using her claw instead of the stick, she began to scrawl something in the dirt.

First, she wrote an 'H'. Then, an 'O'...

Fishlegs frowned. _'What the...?'_

Finally, Lena finished with a satisfied croak. Fishlegs craned his neck to see what the mutant had written.

'Hooligan'.

Fishlegs blinked. Then, for the first time that evening, he smiled. "Yeah; I'm a Hooligan!"

Lena grinned; somehow, her long sharp teeth weren't as frightening as before.

"Yeah, you made a connection!" Fishlegs shook his head in amazement, "Odin's beard!"

Suddenly, Lena stopped smiling and spun around. She stared at the wall of trees, her blood-red eyes drifting from side to side.

The grin slipped off Fishlegs' face like an article of clothing; he watched with increasing discomfort as a poisonous thorn emerged from the tip of Lena's tail. A low growl escaped Lena's throat as she slowly got to her feet.

"What?" Fishlegs frowned, "What is it?"

A distant roar answered Fishlegs' question. A cold, bony hand grasped the boy's heart and refused to let go.

With a squawk, Lena bolted into the forest, disappearing into the trees.

"LENA!" Fishlegs shouted, "We're not supposed to...oh, Thor." Grumbling, he rose to his feet and ran after the mutant.

He had a bad feeling about that roar and whomever it had belonged to. And his hunches were rarely wrong.


	14. Chapter 13: Man Against Beast

**Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait; I haven't had Internet in more than a week. Anyway, I'll be uploading as much as possible to make up for it. So please continue reviewing!**

* * *

Chapter 13: Man Against Beast  


Astrid Hofferson strutted through the woods, axe in hand. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes (only to have it fall back over her left one), she forced herself to keep walking.

She couldn't believe that Snotlout! It was difficult to believe that he and Hiccup were actually related by blood.  
After he'd angered the Flightmare-human hybrid, he and Astrid had been stuck in the cave - alone - for what had felt like hours. But then, when she'd been certain that the creature was gone, Astrid had left Snotlout to find his own route to the cave. They may have come here together, but that didn't mean Snotlout could piggyback-ride her way to the cave. It was borderline cheating.

Solitude suited the blonde Viking divinely. She needed the peace and quiet in order to think.  
Not about Stormfly, though. If Astrid started to think about the friend she'd lost to those monsters, she would break down and cry like a four-year-old. Tears were for weaklings, one of the things Astrid was not.  
No, she needed to figure out the enigma that was the albino creature she'd encountered before. The more she pondered it, the more Astrid became convinced that she'd seen it before. After all, she wasn't a famous Viking - not yet, anyway. Only someone she'd known, either in the village or passenger-bys like Trader Johann, could know her name.

Besides, if it'd been a stranger, Astrid wouldn't be feeling this odd tugging sensation in her chest.

_'Come on, think, think, think!'_ She pressed her nimble fingertips against her temples, as if the action could somehow improve her brainpower. _'Where did I see her before?'_

Suddenly, a flashback sailed before her eyes like a forgotten ship. Astrid would never know where it had come from. It was like it had stayed burrowed underground, just waiting for the right time to re-emerge.

* * *

_Eight-year-old Astrid pouted as she leaned against her mother's dry, paper-thin skirts. She folded her arms across her chest as she watched, unimpressed, the Berserker fleet near Berk's port. Several tall men built like bears were already stepping on the ancient wooden harbor, and Astrid wanted nothing more than to toss them back on their boat._

_She glanced up at her mother, "Mama, why're they coming here again?"_

_A hand stroked Astrid's blonde hair out of her eyes as her mother replied, "It's simply the treaty signing, dear. Every year, Chief Stoick signs a peace treaty with the Berserkers' chief, Oswald the Agreeable."_

_Astrid huffed. "I don't like Dagur. He's mean and always throws knives at us."_

_"Oh, sweetie." Astrid's mother knelt down so that her blue eyes were locking with her daughter's. "You have to understand, Dagur's not like you or your friends. His tribe follows very ancient customs."_

_Astrid frowned. "Like what?"_

_"Well, er..." Suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation's topic, Mrs. Hofferson tried to keep it frank. "You see, on Berserk, the chief has even more power than ours. His word is law. Years ago, the Berserkers believed that their chief was actually half-god. So, in order to keep the bloodline...pure...the chief's family marries amongst themselves."_

_"Bleah!" Astrid stuck her tongue out in revulsion. "Like what, brother and sister?"_

_"No!" Mrs. Hofferson exclaimed, "No. Amongst cousins. Dagur's parents were first-cousins, and like many before him, that made him a little..."_

_"Berserk?" Astrid prompted, grinning goofily. Mrs. Hofferson chuckled and ruffled her daughter's hair. "Yes, something like that. Go on." She gave Astrid a gentle push, "Go play with your friends. The treaty signing will be done by supper."_

_"Good." Picking up her axe as though it were weightless, Astrid slung it over her shoulder and stepped off her doorstep. The cold shadows gave way to the warm sunlight that kissed her skin and hair. Days like this, especially in November, only came by once in a blue moon. Astrid made sure to savor every drop of them. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, imagining everything she could do on a day like this._

_She could engage in another arm-wrestling match with Snotlout. She could practice her aim in the forest. She could go swimming. She could tip some yaks with the twins._

_Infinite possibilities, and the freedom to carry them out. What more could a child want?_

_"Aww, come on, Dad! Why does Lena have to stay locked up?!"_

_Astrid's eyes snapped open. In the sunlight, her blue irises looked nearly colorless. She turned around to see eleven-year-old Dagur yelling at his father, who was carrying a bundle of rags to some unknown location. Astrid frowned and crept out of sight, pressing herself against one of the stone statues decorating the square. Yep, that was Oswald alright: Astrid would recognize those traditional Berserker robes anyway._

_Oswald was just like Astrid remembered him from the year before. He was tall with a slim, muscular build. His frizzy black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he'd begun to grow a beard. Astrid noticed that the chief kept glancing from left to right, as if worried that someone was following him._

_Astrid nestled closer against the statues, praying that she wouldn't be seen._

_"Dagur, be reasonable." Oswald argued, "If Stoick finds Lena, he'd declare war. He'd think we're trying to mutate our soldiers to give them strength...speed...the power to fly."_

_"But...but Lena was born like that, wasn't she?" Dagur tried, flicking some wild hair out of his forest-green eyes._

_Oswald paused. Astrid knew that look: liars normally had it right before they concocted a scam._

_"...Yes." Oswald finally stated. "Yes, she was born with some kind of...awful deformation. Most likely, she was infected with dragon's blood. But Stoick doesn't know that, and he'd think we were lying. It's best to keep things like this hidden."_

_A bird-like chatter came out from the bundle in the chief's arms. Astrid's eyes widened. What in Thor's name...?_

_Dagur's expression softened in a way Astrid had never seen. Stepping forward, he stroked what Astrid assumed was the thing's head. "It's okay, Lena. There's nothing to be afraid of."_

_Another squawk, this time sounding calmer. A hand reached out of the rotting blankets, and Astrid nearly screamed. It was bloodless, like whoever this was had never seen the sun in its life. It was missing a pinky, and the curved nails were long enough to be used as carving tools. Dagur smiled weakly as he locked fingers with the creature's, staring at it fondly. Then, the young Berserker sighed, seeing that there was no other way. "Fine." He replied with heavy emphasis. "But the minute we're done, we come get her!"_

_"Of course." Oswald assured his son. "Now, come along." He turned around and continued to tread up the grassy hill. Dagur shoved his hands in his tunics' pockets as he trotted after his father. Astrid remained where she was, staring after the father and son._

_So, they were keeping a secret from Stoick. Who was 'Lena'? And what was this 'mutation' they'd talked about?_

_Well, there was only one way to find out._

_Astrid grinned cheekily as she jumped out of her hiding place, grabbed her axe, and ran after the Berserkers._

* * *

Astrid gasped as she took several steps backward, her back hitting a tree trunk. She felt her heart beating against her ribs like a hammer, and her lungs felt too small. Taking deep breaths, the blonde Viking recomposed herself. She shivered despite the warm night as she thought over what she'd just seen.

So, Dagur and Lena had known each other before. But when had she met this freak of nature? Try as she might, Astrid couldn't unlock that door yet.

But this recollection had served a great purpose. Astrid had learned something that could affect future relations with the Berserker tribe.

Whatever these things were (humans with dragon DNA, or the other way around), Oswald the Agreeable had been involved in it.

A sudden screech made Astrid spin around, her eye scudding in every direction. There was a loud flapping sound, like a pair of wings the size of sails rapidly beating.

It wasn't far.  
Astrid whipped out her axe and gripped it with both hands, ready to fight this unknown threat.

Another screech, louder this time.

Coming from behind where Astrid was standing. With a scream, the Viking double-flipped into the bushes just as a mutant stormed out into the open, growling and snarling.

Astrid's eyes widened to nearly impossible proportions. At first, she'd been ready to dismiss this thing as a Zippleback. But this wasn't the case: it had the same coloring as Barf and Belch, but instead of scales, this thing had human skin. Both heads were adorned with greasy hair the color of dirt, and their faces were clearly human.

One of its front paws carried something, and it only took a moment for Astrid to realize what it was.

Ruffnut Thorston lay in the beast's claw, unconscious.

"Odin's beard..." Astrid whispered. Then, her expression hardened; her hold on her axe tightened. Nobody was going to harm her friend, not if she could help it.

Just as Astrid was about to rush out, the Zippleback hybrid spun, the nostrils on both its heads flaring. For one terrified second, Astrid thought that this creature had her scent. Then, with a shared grin, the mutant bolted ahead, Ruffnut still in its claw.

Astrid growled, "Oh, no you don't."

Axe in hand, she ran after the creature.

* * *

Dagur, Hiccup, and Snotlout marched through the forest, taking caution in making no sound at all. So far, Hiccup had gathered some edible roots and berries that the group could munch on, but Dagur had made it painfully clear that they were going to drag something more nourishing back to the cave.

Like, say...a dragon carcass.

"You know, we're a lot alike, Hiccup." Dagur grinned and he stroked his crossbow.

"Really?" Hiccup asked nervously, "H-how's that?"

"Well, we're both born leaders..." Dagur began.

"Yeah, he's right about that." Snotlout grumbled, recalling his father's speech on how Snotlout was a far more suitable heir.

"...Sons of chiefs..." Dagur continued, never looking away from his beloved crossbow.

"Yeah, that's true." Hiccup agreed.

"...who had to be _eliminated_ so we could gain control!" Dagur grinned as he took aim at nothing in particular.

"Yes, wait-what?!" Hiccup spun around to look at the older boy. "What? No. No! My dad hasn't been..._'eliminated'_ from anything."

"But he _could!_ Easily!" Dagur argued, "Just say the word and..." He fired an arrow at Snotlout, who held his lantern as a pathetic attempt for a shield. The arrow shot through the handle and ripped the lantern out of Snotlout's grasp. The lantern was pinned to a tree not a second later.

Snotlout and Hiccup remained silent as they really understood what their 'companion' was going on about. He was trying to talk Hiccup into committing murder. And he wasn't telling him to kill just anyone. He was trying to entice the boy into killing his own father.

Just like he had.

_'Like I'd ever do that.'_ Hiccup thought, angry and shocked at the same time. Instead he said, "Yeah, that's...something to think about."

A loud rustling made Dagur spin around like a carousel. Crossbow at the ready, he scanned the lurid forest. Just above his head, on a small cliff, a bush of pale pink-yellow leaves rippled uneasily.

The hunter within him kicked in. Dagur got down on one knee, raising a hand to signal the others to do the same. Hiccup kneeled, also raising his thin arm. Snotlout was the last to crouch down, raising his muscular hand at nobody in particular.

A cool, soft hand landed on Snotlout's fist. The dark-haired boy turned to see Astrid's pale face inches from his. She placed an index finger over her lips, but Snotlout was too busy noticing how close they were.

"Wow!" He covered her hand with his, but Astrid used their joined hands to clout the boy in the head. Then, with the grace of a ballerina, she leapt into nearby shrubs.

Unaware of what was going on just a few feet behind him, Dagur continued to stare at the swishing brambles with his crossbow ready. With a sigh, he turned to Hiccup, "Which one of your friends is it gonna be this time?"

"It's hard to say." Hiccup replied as he drummed his skinny fingers against the rim of his shield.

A blood-curling roar ripped the night in two. Green gas plumed in the air, and a tiny spark appeared.

K-BAM!

Dagur jumped back several feet, dragging Hiccup with him.

Another roar echoed through the woods as two heads rose over the flaming thicket. Hiccup nearly screamed out loud. They were remarkably human faces, but with the Zippleback's trademark green skin and long, giraffe-like necks. It snarled at them with needle-like teeth.

Hiccup found running away incredibly tempting, but Dagur had the opposite reaction. He was glowing excitement. "Look at that beast!" He cried. "Hiccup, my brother!" He shook the boy's thin shoulder, "You've done it! You've led me to some prey!"

He let go of Hiccup's shoulder and aimed the crossbow at the mutant.

It was crossbow against explosive gas.

One head against two.

Man against beast.

Who was going to win?


	15. Chapter 14: Bloody Rainy Night

Chapter 14: Bloody Rainy Night

As unforgiving storm clouds gathered in the previously starry sky, a battle was about to take place.

The Zippleback-human hybrid stood in the cloud of green smoke, a majestic figure against the clouding sky. Lightning forked the sky, shining light on its hideous appearance. Snotlout and Hiccup backed away slightly, but Dagur only grinned and continued to walk towards the mutant, crossbow at the ready. This was even more exciting than killing normal dragons! He was going to kill a _monster!_

Oh, how his fellow Berserkers would sing his praises and hail him as a hero! Dagur would have glory the likes of which his father had never seen!

Dagur smiled as he visualized the statue his people would build of him once he returned with both this beast's heads.

But the creature's snarls snapped him back to reality. Dagur steeled his nerves and progressed towards the monster. It hissed and growled menacingly at him, its clawing flexing like a cat's.

So, this little boy wanted to play? Gladly.  
Dumping the unconscious Viking girl on the ground, the Zippleback crouched down like a pair of coiled vipers, ready to attack.

"Arrow, meet dragon." Dagur purred, "Arrow, meet-"

With an almighty screech, the Zippleback leapt, claws outstretched.

Dagur let loose a small army of arrow that whistled through the air and penetrated the beast's soft skin. It shrieked and collapsed at Dagur's thickly booted feet. Its entire body shuddered before going still, both pairs of eyes closed.  
Dagur, however, didn't relax from his stiff posture. Still holding onto the crossbow, he knelt down before one of the heads and pressed a finger against its jugular.

"Wow!" Snotlout cheered, "You did it! You killed it, Dagur!"

"I'm not so sure." Hiccup muttered as he edged towards the fallen hybrid. "It can't have been killed so easily."

"Brother," Dagur gave the skinny boy a crooked grin, "I was thinking the exact same thing."

Thunder rumbled like a great beast growling in anger.

The head Dagur was close to opened its eyes. It made a wild grab for the young chief, its jaws snapping wildly. Dagur yelped and bolted, but the beast had no intention of letting him go. It brought its claw down on the boy's legs, pinning him to the ground. His bones snapped under the heavy claw like rotten twigs.

Dagur howled in pain like a wolf, making the hybrid grin.

Hiccup turned to Snotlout and waved his hand. "We gotta help him!"

"Right!"

The two boys yelled a battle cry as they charged the beast, shield and dagger raised. Barely interested, the hybrid whipped its long tail at the Hooligans, sending them flying backwards.

Hiccup slammed into a tree, knocking the air out of his lungs. His shield skidded uselessly several feet away.

Snotlout hit a boulder with a loud groan accompanied by bones snapping. His expression went limp, and his broad shoulders slumped. He slid to the ground, moaning in pain.

"Snotlout," Hiccup yelled, "Are you okay?!"

"I..." Snotlout coughed in his palm, rendering it wet and sticky. When he looked at his hand, he found a fat blotch of blood sitting in the center of his palm. Panic spiralled within him, but he quickly wiped it off and grinned at Hiccup, "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

A loud shriek of agony made both boys' heads spin. One of the Zipplebacks' heads was thrashing about wildly as blood streamed down its eye.  
The feathered tip of an arrow was sticking out of the pulpy mess.

Dagur crowed despite the crimson droplets landing on his face. "How do you like me now, eh?!"

The Zippleback roared and brought its open jaws towards Dagur...

...when a white beam of lightning zapped it on the back. The Zippleback hybrid shuddered before glowering at the sky.

Dagur followed its eyes, and his jaw slackened. It was an incredible sight indeed.

Lena was hovering in the sky, her Skrill wings buzzing with white fireflies of electricity. Her silvery hair was alight with energy, and her blood-red eyes stood out more than ever against her white skin. Her stinger protruded from her tail, ready to take a life.

In all his life, Dagur had scarcely seen something as terrifying.

The Zippleback hybrid snarled. "**_Lena_**." It spat out the name as though it were a curse.

Lena thundered in reply, her Whispering Death's chainsaw teeth spinning wildly in her mouth.

For the first time, Hiccup looked at her and saw a beast instead of the mellow, innocent girl he'd begun to grow fond of.

"_Let Dagur go!_" Lena shouted in their own language, which sounded deep and gutteral to the boys.

"_No; I have orders to bring them in._" The hybrid sunk its teeth farther into Dagur's chest, earning it a scream from the boy.

Lena's eyes widened. "_You mean...the Master's gonna...?_"

The hybrid nodded. "_Yes._"

Lena snarled. "_If you don't let him go, I'll kill you._"

The hybrid grinned, "_You can try._"

It lifted its claw from Dagur's chest, which was now covered in bleeding punctures. He groaned as he forced himself to sit up. His eyes widened as he watched the creature flap its wings. Lena opened her mouth as it glowed white like a newborn star. A second later, two rivulets of lightning nailed both Zippleback heads. Their screeches tore at the night sky as though it were fabric.

One head belched gas that surrounded Lena, while the other unleashed a small spark.

_K-BOOM!_

An explosion lit up the entire forest, chasing away every shadow and laying bare any secret.  
Hiccup, who'd gathered his shield, stared at the fiery mushroom in the sky. His heart began to pound.  
Where was...?

Lena flew out of the orange-and-black plume, her claws pervading. She landed on one of the Zipplebacks' heads and clawed out both its eyes. Blood spattered her face and suit, but she didn't care. The monster screeched in agony and twittered its head, trying in vain to shake Lena off.

More arrows pierced its hide; blusters drenched in anguish reverberated through the night. Dagur, ignoring the stinging of his wounds, circled the creature as he let loose as many arrows as he could. Hiccup changed his shield to crossbow-mode and did the same.  
Snotlout threw stones and dead tree trunks at the beast, wincing and holding his side from time to time.

Lena grinned darkly as her stinger stabbed the Zippleback mutant's neck. It unleashed the most unholy howl of all before rolling its eyes back. The head Lena was on crashed on the dirt, erupting a cloud of dark brown dust.

The remaining head cried out, its pain both physical and emotional. It lowered itself to its dead counterpart and nudged it, trying in vain to revive it.

But it was no use. The head was dead as a doornail.

The hybrid's expression quickly shifted from heartbroken to outraged. It glanced at Lena, who'd landed and was rushing to Dagur's side. As her Skrill wings sunk back into her back, she examined the Berserker's shattered legs. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them away and gave him an encouraging smile. Dagur smiled back and stroked her bloodstained, catching her off guard.

The monster was seeing red.

The mission could wait.

The Zippleback mutant howled and made a beeline for the pair. Its dead counterpart dragged in the dirt as the hybrid moved.

"Guys, look out!" Hiccup screamed.

Lena glanced up just in time to see the charging hybrid. Her expression darkened as she stood in front of Dagur, arms outstretched. Her Skrill wings sprouted out of her back and she bared her Whispering Death teeth, shrieking in warning. Dagur stared at Lena in shock, unable to move from where he lay.

Why? Why was she she so willing to protect him?

Lena shrieked again, daring the mutant to come one step closer. The Zippleback tilted its head in confusion before swiping its claw at the albino.

Five new gashes appeared on Lena's side. Blood splashed on the soil as the albino squealed, but she refused to move. With a frustrated growl, the Zippleback struck Lena again. This time, a hunk of her flesh was torn from her arm. Lena screamed but didn't move.

"W-what're you doing, Lena?!" Dagur asked. "You're not being brave; you're just being stupid!"

With a squirrel-like chirp, Lena turned to look at the Berserker. Her pale face was caught somewhere between hurt and confused.

The Zippleback moved in for the kill, its jaws making a beeline for Dagur's face. The young chief gasped, but Lena shoved him out of the way. The Zippleback's jaw locked around her middle.

Dagur lay there, the shadows concealing his eyes. "You're getting yourself killed for my sake...but _why?_"

The boys watched helplessly as the Zippleback and Lena fought. The albino sucker-punched the creature in the eye, making its jaw widen slightly. She sprinted out but almost fainted. Her black suit was sticky with blood, and her movements were far less graceful than they'd been before.

Lena was running out of energy, and everybody knew it. Lena collapsed on her knees, her palms sinking into the soft earth.

The Zippleback mutant grinned and moved in for the kill.

"No!" A new voice called out. A second later, a heavy rock sailed through the air and nailed the Zippleback mutant in the head. It shrilled as its head hit the ground with a heavy _thud_. Its entire body shuddered as a figure stepped out from the shadows.

"Fishlegs?!" Dagur exclaimed, confusion plastered on his sooty face. "What the hell're you doing here?!"

"Lena ran off." Fishlegs answered with a shrug. "So I followed her tracks. It wasn't so hard." While his words were humble, his tone was beaming with pride. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to teach this thing a lesson." He picked up the stone he'd thrown before and lifted it over his head.

The Zippleback mutant looked up at him, a pathetic whimper escaping its lips. Fishlegs' lip trembled, and even though he tried to drop the rock, he couldn't bring himself to.

The creature took advantage of Fishlegs' moment of weakness. It slammed its head against his gut, sending him rolling across the dirt. With an inhuman roar, it spread its wings and leapt in the sky. As it rose higher and higher into the sky, its tail drooped down and coiled around Ruffnut's unconscious form. It lifted her into the air, where everyone saw her.

"Ruff!" Hiccup exclaimed.

"I'll get her!" Snotlout snarled. Ignoring the stinging sensation in his side, he broke into a run towards the retreating mutant. "Hey, freak!" He shouted, "I'm not through with you yet!"

Grabbing Dagur's dropped crossbow, he leapt into the air...

...only to have the Zippleback mutant snatch him in its claws.

Hiccup face-palmed before running after the mutant. Snotlout struggled to free himself, even whacking the creature's paws with the crossbow, but it was of little use. "I'll find you!" Hiccup shouted, "I'll bring you back, I swear it!"

Snotlout nodded, reluctantly placing his fate in Hiccup's hands.

With a final shriek and beating of its wings, the Zippleback mutant - along with Ruffnut and Snotlout - vanished into the clouds.

Hiccup panted as he turned to Fishlegs. The chubby blonde boy panicked. "I-I'm sorry!" He exclaimed. "I know I should've killed it, but..." He trailed off. "I-its face was so human and I..." He soughed and shook his head. When he looked at Hiccup, his eyes were brimming. "I just...couldn't."

_'Funny,'_ Hiccup thought, _'That's nearly exactly what I thought when I couldn't kill Toothless.'_

He didn't like the comparison very much.

"It's fine, Fishlegs." Hiccup patted his friend on the broad back. "We'll get 'em back, I promise."

Dagur's outcry of pain made both boys turn around. The Berserker was lying on his back while Lena examined his broken legs. She cooed and made squeaky noises as she surveyed the damage. Then, she locked eyes with Dagur.

_'I'm sorry.'_ A girl's voice apologized in Dagur's mind. _'But I can't heal your legs. Not without infecting you. So...'_

Lena took a deep breath, grabbed one of Dagur's legs, and snapped it back into place. The chief's eyes flew open as he screamed like a banshee. Forcing herself to toughen up, Lena repeated the process with Dagur's other leg. "Odin's beard! Stop! STOP!" Dagur howled, "Enough already!"

Lena made an apologetic gurgle, holding her claws up with a sheepish smile.

"Anyway," Dagur steered them to a different subject, "What about _your_ injuries?"

Lena blinked before staring down at her beaten, broken, bleeding body. She tilted her head, as though this was news to her. Dagur groaned, "How you managed to survive so far, I'll never know."

Lena pouted before working up a large ball of saliva in her mouth. Then, she hawked and spat in her palm. All three boys winced as Lena spread the spit on some of the gashes.

"How's that gonna...?" Dagur's unfinished question was answered when Lena's cuts sealed themselves up. The bleeding stopped as the skin knitted itself together from nothing. Within seconds, the only evidence that she'd been wounded were three long shiny scars.

Dagur blinked before grinning, his smile a crescent of uneven white teeth. "Wicked."

Lena blushed before spitting in her hand and wiping it on her other wounds. Within minutes, she was completely healed. Lena smiled nervously at Dagur before standing up on her weird feet. Then, she offered him her hand. After a long pause, the young chief relented and accepted her outstretched hand.

The moment he was forced to depend on his legs, Dagur sucked in air from his clenched teeth. Lena cooed, tilting her head in concern. Dagur shook his head, "It's fine. At least I can walk."

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Hiccup asked Fishlegs, his eyebrows arched.

"Yeah!" Fishlegs exclaimed. "It's incredible! Lena's healing properties are identical to the ones of the Night Fury! According to the Book of Dragons, Night Fury's saliva has medicinal features, but I've never seen it on...something else."

"That's not what I-"

"And her stinger!" Fishlegs continued, cutting Hiccup off. "I bet she's got a certain percentage of Scauldron DNA in her system. That would explain the venom in her stinger and some of her speech patterns."

Hiccup sighed. When it came to socialization, Fishlegs Ingerman could be as sharp as a butter-knife.

"What's wrong with you?!" A girl's voice made everyone turn around. Astrid marched out of the bush as she yelled at Dagur. "I almost had that Zippleback mutant! It was right in my hands!"

"Mutant, shmutant!" Dagur replied as he rounded at her, "We're hunting a Night Fury here!" He turned to Hiccup in frustration. "Did you leave **_anyone_** back on Berk?"

With Lena's help, Dagur marched ahead. Astrid's eyes narrowed as she leaned in towards Hiccup. "Did he say...'hunting a Night Fury'?"

"Yes, that's exactly what he said." Hiccup replied miserably.

"But, Toothless is-"

"I know." Hiccup replied. "And if he's loose, so are the other dragons. I'll go save Ruffnut and Snotlout from that...thing. You and Fishlegs go to Tuff, gather the dragons, and get the heck off this island."

Astrid pursed her lips together. "I'm not leaving you alone with Dagur and that..."

"Lena's a friend...I think." Hiccup added as he recalled Lena's unexpected Terrible Terror feast. "And don't worry, Dagur won't hurt me...I'm his brother."

_What?!_

Dagur looped an arm around Hiccup. "Come, Hiccup! While the trail is still fresh!"

"I-I can't hunt with an entourage." Hiccup mumbled, the lie dripping from his lips like saliva. Raising his voice, he said to Fishlegs and Astrid. "Go back to Berk, leave us to our business!"

Lena trotted after the boys, her long tail swishing to and fro.

Once he was certain that the trio was out of earshot, Fishlegs asked Astrid, "So..we're not really leaving, are we?"

"Of course not." Astrid replied before running down a separate path in the forest. Fishlegs' shoulders slumped. "I hate it when they do that." He ran after the girl, praying that nobody would die tonight.

* * *

The trio marched through the woods, Dagur leaning on Hiccup for support. As they ambled down the dirt road, the young chief stared at Lena, who'd gone back to walking on all fours. He allowed the silence to stretch for ten heartbeats. Then, he asked, "Why'd you do that?"

Lena frowned at him and tilted her head, not comprehending.

"You could've died trying to save me." Dagur said, sounding genuinely curious. Lena blinked, then stood on her legs. She placed her hand over her heart, then put her hand over Dagur's. She smiled softly at him, answering to his question to the best of her ability.

Dagur didn't need any further explanation.


End file.
